The Phantom of the Theatre
by LuckyLadybug
Summary: CHAPTER 8 FINALLY UP! Téa and Mokuba are both involved with the production at the community theatre, but things are going dreadfully wrong. Then there's the mysterious electrical activity in the city. The YGO gang never have it easy, do they?
1. The Production

**Yu-Gi-Oh!**

**The Phantom of the Theatre**

**By LuckyLadybug**

**Notes: Muwahahaha! I'm really excited about this one. XD The canon/show characters aren't mine, neither is anything relating to _The Phantom of the Opera_, the story is mine and so are any characters who are not canon (such as Runihura), and friendship and sibling cuteness will abound!**

* * *

Yugi Muto sighed contentedly as he walked home from school one chilly February day. It might be cold outside, and there was snow everywhere to walk through (which Yugi didn't really mind), but the short boy's mind was on other things—such as that over a month had passed since they had been involved in any horrendous, disturbing, life-threatening mysteries. Del Vinci, the Mafia don they had been trying to stop back in December, was still in jail and it didn't look probable that he would be escaping this time. There was far too much evidence that proved he was guilty. Yugi knew that Seto Kaiba must be extremely pleased about that fact. Hopefully Del Vinci would never be able to harm Mokuba again.

"I still sense that something isn't quite right. . . ."

Yugi blinked and started as Atemu appeared beside him. Then he sighed, knowing that the Pharaoh was right. He himself felt it as well. "I know," he said then. "You're thinking about all those weird electrical mysteries, aren't you, Yami?" Over the past month, there had been much that couldn't be explained where it came to electricity—cables would suddenly be on the ground when there hadn't been any severe weather, buildings would suddenly blow several fuses at once, and some people had even wound up electrocuted. It was all too much to be coincidental—and it all happened over a small area that included Domino City. Though odd things had been happening for over a month, most of them hadn't wound up on the news until recently. That was why Yugi and the others hadn't especially been investigating, though they had become suspicious of the causes of it all.

"I am," Atemu nodded. "I'm certain this Runihura person could be involved in someway. It seems almost as if causing such problems would not be below him." It all sounded so familiar to some part of his mind. He wished that he could encounter Runihura for himself. Then maybe he would remember.

"Do you think Seth and Khu know about him?" Yugi wondered. "Maybe, if we could find where they went, we could ask them." The former high priest and his elder brother had both mysteriously disappeared after the events concerning Del Vinci. Prior to that, they had been temporarily staying at the game shop, which was something that Yugi was sure that Khu hadn't been happy about. For a reason unknown to both Yugi and Atemu, Khu still seemed to carry a deep grudge against the Pharaoh.

"_If_ we could find where they went." Atemu narrowed his eyes. "Your grandfather thought that maybe the reason they left had something to do with a code they were trying to solve."

"Yeah," Yugi agreed with a nod, "he told me that as well. But I didn't think they ever did manage to solve the code." He had found quite a few pieces of paper laying around the house when he and Atemu had returned to it on an early December twenty-third morning, all of them showing various attempts at deciphering the unknown code. "And they took the original paper with them. . . ."

"It's all quite strange." Atemu quickly sidestepped a patch of ice on the sidewalk.

Yugi looked up at the gray clouds. "Téa said she's auditioning for a part in the play that the local theatre is putting on," he remarked idly, changing the subject to something more cheerful. He was excited for Téa and hoped that she would get the part. He himself was certain that he'd be much too shy to ever try out for the stage.

Atemu nodded absently. "It seems that Téa would do better at dancing than acting, though," he said, taking note of how it was usually hard for the spirited girl to conceal her true feelings about things.

"Well, she said it was just a small part," Yugi replied. "But she was excited about it anyway. If she gets it, she might get to dance a little bit. I think she told me the part was for a ballet dancer." He watched as several small snowflakes began to fall. By the time he and Atemu got back to the game shop, it was coming down steadily.

* * *

Bakura found himself visiting with Marik as the afternoon passed by. They were sitting on the floor in the Ishtars' living room, just discussing the most recent goings-on and occasionally playing a video game or two (as Marik had discovered that he quite enjoyed them and had bought several recently).

"Frances has been coming over a lot more lately," Bakura sighed, idly turning the controller over in his hands. "Father hasn't proposed yet, which I'm relieved about, but I'm sure that will come." His shoulders rose and fell despairingly and Marik felt sorry for his friend. He knew how Bakura worried that Frances wasn't what she seemed—and that she might even be Franceska, the vampyress, in disguise. Unfortunately, Bakura's father would never believe such "nonsense."

"Is there a way you could tell him about Franceska without mentioning the vampyre angle?" the Egyptian boy asked, though he doubted it.

"I could try," Bakura admitted, "but then if I'd try to say that I was afraid it was Frances, I know he'd be furious." He leaned back, glancing out the window at the increasing flurry of snow. It had been quite a white winter for Domino City this year, not that Bakura really minded. But it did make it harder to get out to the cemetery and visit Amane's and his mother's graves. And whenever he did manage it, the tombstones were always covered with snow and ice. It took ages for the quiet boy to scrape the ice away, but he always struggled to do it when he found some there. Somehow it just didn't seem proper for ice to adorn headstones. It made them seem unkempt and uncared for.

"Yes," Marik sighed, "I see what you mean. It's quite an impossible situation, isn't it. Nothing can be done to prove Frances guilty. Yami Bakura knows that she pushed your father into the gunfire that time, but he won't believe an ancient thief that's been hiding in your Millennium Ring for centuries." He was repeating the man's own description of Yami Bakura, which Bakura had told Marik about a while back.

Bakura nodded. "So . . . I really don't know what to do. I'm afraid Father may be seriously hurt before he realizes that Frances isn't a good person. And at any rate, he will certainly be hurt emotionally." He set the controller down and pulled his knees up to his chest. "He . . . he never really got over Amane's death . . . or Mother's. I know that's a large part of why he's so taken with Frances. It makes me feel so helpless!"

Marik wished that he could say something that would make Bakura feel better, but he didn't know what that would be. He wasn't always an extremely positive person, though he wasn't as negative as he had been before. But the situation not only seemed impossible—it seemed hopeless.

As it turned out, their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Mokuba. The child had come over in a company limo, but even the short walk up the sidewalk and to the porch had caused the boy's raven hair to be decorated with snowflakes. He brushed them off as he was invited inside, grateful for the warmth and glad to see his friend.

"What brings you here, Mokuba?" Marik smiled gently after greetings were exchanged. The two friends walked over to where Bakura was and sat down with him again. The brown-eyed boy also tried to put on a smile, for Mokuba's sake.

"I got a job with that new play," Mokuba told them both enthusiastically. "I'm in charge of the lighting and organizing the stage tricks and stuff!" He beamed, proud of himself. Rarely did he get a chance to do such things, though he was sufficiently qualified after working with so many of Seto's inventions and helping to test them.

"That sounds like something you would enjoy," Marik agreed with a nod.

"What play are they doing?" Bakura asked, mildly interested. He remembered that Iyoko—his mother—had taken him and Amane to stage plays at times, though it all seemed so long ago now.

"_The Phantom of the Opera_," Mokuba replied. "It's kinda fun, with all the effects and stuff. And we get to drop a chandelier on the stage." He smirked a bit.

"A real one?" Bakura exclaimed, his eyes widening.

"No," Mokuba replied, "'cause it needs to be one of the really old kind that used candles instead of electricity, and it'd kinda cost a lot to get a real one of those. They'd be antiques! We've got a guy who's making several replicas, in case one of them gets damaged prematurely or something." He smiled now, leaning back and placing his hands behind his head.

"Well," Marik said, "it sounds like you'll be busy for the next while, my friend." But that was good for Mokuba. He needed some kind of a hobby that he could work at when he wasn't involved with Seto at KaibaCorp. After all, Mokuba was still a child and he deserved to have a childhood. Both Seto and Marik had been robbed of theirs.

Mokuba grinned. "Yep." He rubbed his nose. "It'd be really cool if you guys would come watch some of the rehearsals sometime," he said. "I could show you all around backstage and maybe even let you in on some of the theatre's secrets." He didn't bother to ask them to try auditioning for any of the parts. Bakura would be too shy, he was certain, and Marik had said before that acting held no interest for him (as he didn't like being people he was not).

"I'll make a point to come," Marik assured him.

"So will I," Bakura said. Anything that would take his mind off of the problem of his father and Frances would be a good thing, he was certain.

* * *

Valon had fallen asleep on the couch. He had been out late the previous night, angry and frustrated because he and Alister had somehow gotten into another argument. After many hours of pondering and soul-searching near the canyons, the Australian had returned home, kicked off his boots, and immediately embraced the softness of the sofa. (That was how Alister had found him when he had came downstairs later on in the morning. The redhead had covered his friend with a throw and then had gone into the kitchen to find something to eat.) Now it was afternoon and the brunette was starting to wake up, most likely from the ringing of the telephone. Raphael had answered it and was having a conversation with an unclear party.

Alister, in the kitchen again, merely tuned it out. It wasn't his business. Raphael would tell him and Valon what it was about if he felt like it.

He sipped at a glass of chocolate milk slowly, his thoughts wandering. It seemed that he had become a bit more withdrawn since the events at Del Vinci's skyscraper. The scene still played in his mind of when he had cornered the Mafia don with a revolver and had seemed to be intending to shoot him. Alister still wasn't sure why he hadn't. Del Vinci certainly deserved it. He had purposely tortured dozens of innocent children for his own selfish reasons. But still Alister had not ended the man's life, even though he had been longing to.

_Maybe it was because of what happened with Doom,_ Alister mused to himself. _Maybe my experiences with Kaiba taught me that vengeance isn't the answer._ But he sighed, unsure of himself, and swished the liquid about in his glass.

Now Raphael hung up the phone. Alister could hear Valon sleepily ask him, "Who was that?"

Raphael shook his head. "That," he replied, "was Hilda, my socialite cousin." He crossed his arms. It had bowled him over when he had picked up the phone and had heard Hilda's voice on the other end. As far as he had known, Hilda had wanted to forget that Raphael—and his two "hoodlum" friends—existed at all. But when he had learned the reason for the call, it made a bit more sense.

"What'd she want?" Valon demanded, now investigating the throw and wondering how it had gotten on him. Raphael, noticing this, gave Valon a look that said, I didn't give it to you. Valon blinked then, realizing it must have been Alister.

"She wondered if I wanted a cat," Raphael replied. Upon seeing Valon's baffled expression, he went on to explain that Hilda's friend Paulette's cat had wound up with kittens and Paulette and her husband had tried to sell them to people. But one had been returned to them for one reason or another and they didn't know what to do with it. It was full-grown by now, and healthy, but they really didn't want two cats to care for. Hilda had then remembered Raphael's appreciation of cats and had wondered if he would be interesting in having it.

Valon shrugged. "If you wanna have it, go ahead, mate," he replied, not really caring one way or the other. He sat up, running a hand through his wild brown hair.

Raphael glanced over at the kitchen doorway, where Alister was now leaning. "What do you think?" he asked.

Alister grunted. "I don't care," he answered. But still, there was something about cats that made him sad in a way. It had to do with his brother Miruko and a kitten he had once had. The kitten had disappeared during the war and undeniably hadn't survived. Miruko had been heartbroken. Alister couldn't really look at a cat anymore without hearing his brother's happy exclamations over the kitten and then his sobs upon finding it gone. But he would be the last person to stand in the way if Raphael wanted the cat.

Raphael smiled slightly. He couldn't deny that he was interested in Hilda's offer. Cats had always been his favorite pet as a child, and as an adult, he still enjoyed their company. And Paulette's Ragdoll cat, he remembered, had been very calm and friendly. If her offspring was anything like her, then it would be a pleasant creature to have around. "I'll call Hilda back and ask her to bring the cat over so we can see what it's like," he said, not having made any commitments until first talking with the other two on the subject.

Valon now glanced idly at the evening paper. "Hey, what's this?" he blinked, noticing a story on the main page. Both Alister and Raphael glanced over questioningly as Valon scanned the article. "It says somethin' about some weird stuff goin' on at the community theatre," the Australian remarked at last.

"Such as?" Alister asked, though he wasn't too interested.

"Such as scenery fallin' over when it's supposed to be secured, props goin' missing, and . . . crikey!" Valon's eyes widened as he read over the latest item—and the one most assuredly responsible for getting the story onto the front page. "A stage light fell down and almost killed somebody!"

Raphael narrowed his eyes. "Did it hit the person?"

Valon shook his head. "He just barely got out of the way in time," he replied. Then his eyes widened again. "It says here that it was Mokuba Kaiba!"


	2. The Phantom Strikes?

**Notes: The 'T.G.' thing was more or less borrowed from Lizzie, but I didn't really know how else for our ghost to sign his notes. XD; So. . . .**

* * *

It wasn't long before many of Mokuba's acquaintances and friends were congregating at the theatre to make certain he was alright. Seto, of course, had arrived much sooner—a KaibaCorp doctor in tow. Mokuba was resting on a couch backstage (Téa sitting nearby and trying to comfort him, as she had come to get the final results of her audition and had seen the light falling), shaken but physically fine. Once Seto made sure of this, he went about demanding to know what had caused the stagelight to tear free when it had been supposed to have been secure. But no one seemed to know. This did not make for a very happy Seto.

"It was secure, my foot," he muttered, coming back to where Mokuba and Téa were. "Obviously it wasn't." Again he gave his brother a searching look, trying to see if there were any injuries he had overlooked. The child appeared well, however, and was highly gratified that his brother was here now—though he wouldn't admit to how upset he really felt.

"Everything's alright, big brother," he tried to smile weakly. "I'm sure it was just some weird malfunction." He shrugged, leaning back into the couch.

"Ordinarily I might agree," Seto retorted, "but something seems strange about all of this. These kinds of things weren't happening until work began on this latest production." He crossed his arms, annoyed with the odd things that they were continually being plagued with. It was hard for him to believe that any time strange things happened it was more than just coincidence, but he was starting to be forced to believe it—especially when some of the strange things were happening to his younger brother.

Mokuba frowned. "But why would someone wanna ruin _The Phantom of the Opera_?" he wondered. _Or,_ he asked himself, _does Seto mean that they're trying to ruin us?_ KaibaCorp owned the theatre. If these strange accidents continued to happen and to grow more serious, someone could eventually wind up hurt or even dead. And then KaibaCorp could be blamed.

Seto shook his head. He had considered the possibility, and also the thought that Del Vinci's minions were still at large and trying to hurt his brother, but in the end he found himself rejecting both thoughts and just hoping that it all was a coincidence. "You could have been killed," he remarked now. "Maybe it would be better if you didn't continue your job here." But even as he spoke, he knew Mokuba would protest—and he knew exactly what the boy would say, as well.

"But you wouldn't leave just because some weird things happened." Mokuba looked at Seto with blue-gray eyes, pleading silently to be allowed to stay. He didn't want to quit working at the theatre. It was something he enjoyed immensely and that, until now, was something that he could do without life-threatening disasters intruding.

Seto sighed, rubbing his forehead. He knew that Mokuba was right—and that he couldn't protect his brother forever. But that didn't change his feelings of wishing that Mokuba wouldn't work here.

"Mokuba!"

Both Kaiba brothers and Téa looked up at the sound of the voice. Marik was now running over, accompanied by Bakura. Behind them were Yugi, Joey, and Tristan.

"Are you alright, my friend?" Marik asked, stopping in front of the couch and studying the child in concern. It hadn't been that long ago that Mokuba had been at the Ishtars' home. He had left to go to the theatre shortly after Marik and Bakura had promised that they would come visit. They would have gone with him right then, only Marik had been partially watching some bread Ishizu had been baking while the woman had gone to the store. By the time she had returned, the news of the falling stagelight was being broadcast on the news. Marik and Bakura had wasted no time in heading to the theatre, meeting up with Yugi, Joey, and Tristan along the way.

"Yeah," Mokuba smiled a bit, looking up at the Egyptian boy. "It really didn't hit me or anything. I was able to get out of the way." He laughed weakly. "I wanted to show you and Bakura around, but it looks like things aren't gonna go the way I'd hoped." He glanced over at the janitors, who were cleaning up the mess of broken glass and twisted metal on the stage.

"What do they think caused this?" Yugi asked after greeting everyone.

Téa bit her lip. "They don't really know yet," she admitted, "but the manager is insisting that it must have just came loose and fell." She wanted to believe that—oh how badly did she want to!—but she was afraid that it hadn't been an accident. And judging from Seto's cold expression, he felt the same. But she didn't understand why someone would sabotage the theatre. It didn't make sense!

"I kinda doubt that's really what happened," Joey could be heard to mutter.

"Then that makes two of us!" came a worried voice from behind the Brooklyn boy. Instantly he whirled around, along with the others, to find a tall, raven-haired man with messy hair. He looked as if he had been most heartily stressing over everything. A nametag on his left pocket announced him as Gerald Richards, Theatre Manager.

Téa stood up to frown at the man. "But you told the police that it was an accident!" she cried indignantly, her hands flying to her hips.

"I know," Gerald retorted, "but there's no point in giving the theatre any more bad publicity than it already has. Actually," he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "some of the other stagehands found that the wires had been neatly cut through. Someone was up on the catwalk, sawing through those wires in order to bring the light crashing to the stage!" He clenched his fists. "Just think what would've happened if it had hit Mokuba!"

Seto stood and came over to the man, his ice blue eyes narrowed darkly. "Oh, I'm thinking of it," he snapped. "I'm thinking of it every moment. And now you're admitting that you lied to the police! Why do you dare to tell this now, in front of me? You should know that I could give you much more grief for this than any police officer."

Gerald glared at him, then looked back to Joey and the others, none of whom were looking very happy. "I was thinking of your collective reputation as mystery solvers," he replied, "because I need some answers quite badly!" He looked back to Seto. "The last thing I need is for the police to be involved, but if your friends could work undercover here in the theatre, maybe we could get somewhere!" He swallowed hard. There were other elements to this that he hadn't told them yet. But if they agreed to help, then he would reveal the rest. "I'm willing to pay, of course," he added.

Yugi stepped forward. "We wouldn't do it for money," he said firmly.

"And if we did agree to help you find the perpetrator, it wouldn't be for your sake," Marik frowned, not liking the fact that the man had lied to the police because of his fear of bad publicity. "It would be because we wouldn't want another disaster like this to happen and wind up killing someone!" He gestured toward the stage.

"I don't care why you would be accepting the mystery," Gerald retorted. "I just want it solved before this production is scheduled to go on." He looked back to Seto. "Mokuba would not have to continue working here if you would prefer it, Mr. Kaiba," he said. It was really of no consequence to him, except that if something really did happen to Mokuba—a child—the theatre would take a serious blow, especially since Mokuba already had come through a harrowing experience.

"No!" Mokuba exclaimed, getting up and coming over. "This doesn't scare me. I wanna find out what's going on myself. I'm not gonna just back out of this because weird things are happening." He really wasn't surprised that Gerald hadn't given the police the truth. The man was obsessed with his theatre and with getting good publicity. Mokuba didn't really like him at all, but he liked the theatre and the job he'd secured as a stagehand.

Seto growled. "For now, Mokuba can stay," he said, half-turning. "But if anything like this happens again, he will have to accept my decision to leave." He pretended not to hear Mokuba's sigh of resignation. His little brother—his only family—had nearly been killed. He didn't think he was being overprotective. If anything, he thought he was being too lenient.

"So . . . how long have these things been going on?" Tristan spoke up now, looking around the area and suddenly wondering if they were being overheard. Maybe he was just seeing things, but it almost looked like he could see a dark, silent shadow slip around a backdrop out of sight, the soft flutter of a coat heard brushing against the scenery.

"Too long," Gerald growled. "But let's not discuss it here. If you're going to solve the mystery, let's discuss it in my office."

Yugi exchanged looks with the others, who nodded, and then looked back to Gerald. "Alright," he said finally. "We'll help." _I guess it was too much to hope for, that things would continue being peaceful,_ he thought to himself ruefully.

As the group followed Gerald down the backstage halls, the man turned and looked at Téa. "By the way, you're in," he announced. "You're playing Meg." The decision had been made a while ago, but Gerald felt that even if it hadn't been he would have decided to accept her. It would be a perfect way to have his new detectives become involved with the production, since Téa's friends would naturally come to the rehearsals and such. He was certain that the group would be able to solve this.

Téa blinked in surprise, finding this a strange time to tell her so. But she had no time to reply before they arrived at Gerald's office.

* * *

Valon was the one who answered the door when Hilda happened to arrive. The two stared each other up and down, trying to decide what they thought of each other. At last Hilda's eye twitched and she frowned, obviously not impressed with the short, muscular, wild-haired Australian. In her hand she held a cat carrier and she looked around Valon, as if looking for Raphael. Though she wasn't entirely certain she'd gotten the right address, she imagined that she probably had, since Valon looked like he was another "hoodlum."

"If you're Hilda and you want Raph, he's in the kitchen," Valon remarked then, deciding he didn't like Hilda either.

"You can just give him this," Hilda replied with a bored sigh, thrusting the cat carrier into Valon's arms. The Australian became aware that the steadily purring motor he had been hearing belonged to the occupant of the valise.

Raphael came out then, drying his hands on a towel and surveying the scene before him. His eyes narrowed as it was apparent what Hilda thought of Valon—and of the modest house. He could barely stand to be around his cousin anymore because of her increasingly horrible attitude towards anyone who wasn't as monetarily wealthy as she herself.

Before he could say anything, Hilda spoke again. "Here's your cat, Raphael. I'm sure you'll find it quite to your satisfaction. After all, you always liked any cat that came your way." She brushed a few stray cat hairs off her sharp business suit with an annoyed frown. "Just as you seemed to like any hoodlum who came your way as well."

"Hey!" Valon cried angrily. "What's that supposed to mean?" But he knew very well what it meant, and Raphael obviously did as well. The blonde's eyes narrowed further as he stepped forward.

"This is my house," he growled, looking Hilda in the eyes, "and I won't tolerate your insults." He knew it was useless to tell her that Valon and Alister weren't "hoodlums," as she would only continue to believe so with her narrow-mindedness. Honestly, she was so different from the childhood friend he had once known.

Hilda shrugged and turned to go. "Call Paulette if, for any reason, you wind up not being pleased with the cat, as its previous owners were." She idly wondered where Raphael's other friend, the redhead, was—not that she really cared, of course. She had already spent as much time in this neighborhood as she wanted to.

"I'm sure it will be fine," Raphael retorted low. He wished he could say something like that it was good to see her, but he knew it would be a lie. When she appeared just to deliver a cat and couldn't refrain from being rude, Raphael was simply and completely disgusted.

Valon slammed the door with his foot as soon as Hilda had gotten in her car and driven off. "That's your cousin, mate? She's even more nasty than you and Alister made her sound." He frowned darkly, not in a very good mood after that fiasco.

Raphael shook his head, taking the cat carrier from Valon and setting it on the couch before sitting down himself. "She's been that way for a long time now," he replied, not wanting to elaborate. Carefully he unlocked the door and reached inside to get the cat out.

As it turned out, he didn't have to. As soon as the door was opened, the cat—who was off-white with lilac/blue markings—leaped out on his lap, continuing to loudly purr. Both Raphael and Valon blinked at this.

"It looks like the kitty's already settlin' in," Valon remarked, not having had much experience with cats this friendly. Most of the ones he had known were angry creatures that scratched and bit at anyone who came near.

"It looks that way," Raphael agreed, giving the animal a gentle stroke. The cat half-closed her eyes in contentment.

* * *

Joey blinked at the room in surprise as they entered. Everything was neatly organized and nothing was out of place. It almost seemed a contradiction when one looked at Gerald and his wild hair. But Gerald seemed not to notice or care about Joey's reaction—or anyone else's.

He went immediately to his desk and opened a drawer, removing several pieces of paper. "The problem," he announced now, "is that someone seems to think we should literally become involved with our production's story." He crossed his arms and leaned back, allowing the teenagers—and Mokuba—to come over and look at the various notes, which were all written in red ink.

"What the heck?" Joey cried in complete confusion as he scanned the one nearest to him. "'Don't forget to keep my usual seat open for me. I'll be observing the performance, as always. T.G.'" He slammed the paper back down on the desk. "It doesn't make any sense!"

"It does if you know the story of _The Phantom of the Opera_," Bakura spoke up quietly, remembering that he had long ago seen that play with Iyoko and Amane.

Gerald nodded in agreement. "You see," he said, looking at Joey, "the basic story involves a supposed 'ghost' who is haunting the Paris Opera House. The stage managers often receive various letters from this 'ghost,' detailing various instructions he wants to have carried out. Many of the notes are reminders to keep Box Five open for him so he can view the performances. Of course, the stage managers believed it all to be some sort of joke—and that was their mistake. Everything became more dangerous from there." He sighed, running a hand through his hair and succeeding in messing it up even more. "And it looks like I haven't been able to stop it from reaching that point."

"So . . . someone's pretending to be a theatre ghost?" Tristan blinked.

"It sure looks that way," Téa said, feeling stunned. "And that's probably what the 'T.G.' stands for—Theatre Ghost. In the play—and the book—the ghost signs his notes 'O.G.', for Opera Ghost." She had been a fan of the story for quite some time, ever since she had read the book several years previous. She had also attended several local performances of the musical version and had been thrilled at the chance to now be a part of the tale she had loved for so long. But she hadn't realized that things would take this turn. It was so strange! If the notes were the only things similar to the events of the story, it might be amusing. Unfortunately, things were, indeed, starting to get dangerous.

"I started getting these notes two weeks ago, when we were just starting to get ready to hold the auditions," Gerald announced now. "It seemed harmless enough at first and I thought someone was just a fanatic who wanted to show off his knowledge of the story. But that's when the strange accidents started happening." His eyes narrowed. "And even they were harmless to begin with. What happened with the light is the first actual disaster we've had. And I think we can probably expect more of them!"

Seto didn't look happy. "If it's supposed to be a joke, the culprit has a very twisted, sick sense of humor." Indeed, he was in a very bad mood today. But he had a perfect right to be. Mokuba could have been killed!

"For once, I agree with ya!" Joey said, hitting his palm with his fist. "We've gotta stop this nutcase before someone gets hurt!"

That was when the door opened and a girl Mokuba didn't recognize came in. Obviously she had overheard Joey's remark, because her first words were, "I'm afraid it's too late for that." Then, turning to Gerald, she continued. "One of the other stagehands found a strange young man. He was lifeless in a closet, a crowbar on the floor next to him!"

Instantly everyone was gawking at her in horror and disbelief. Gerald frowned, easing himself out of his chair. "What do you mean by a 'strange young man'?" he wanted to know. "And by 'lifeless,' do you mean he's dead?"

The woman shrugged. "He's strange because he hasn't been around here before," she replied, thinking that perhaps she should have substituted the word "unfamiliar" for "strange." Then she half-turned to head back up the hall. "And I don't know whether he's dead or not. You'll all have to come with me to find out."

Mokuba swallowed hard, checking to make sure that Seto and his friends were all still there. When he saw that no one was missing, he gave a sigh of relief. It wasn't any of them. _But who was it?_ He felt a certain dread as they went to find out.

"What did he look like?" Gerald snapped now, suddenly wondering and worrying if it could have been a random reporter come to investigate the scene. _Now that would go over horribly!_

The woman sighed now. "I only saw him for a minute. His body fell out from between two stored backdrops. But he was wearing a dark coat and had reddish hair."

Tristan shuddered, unable to get the memory of the person he thought he'd seen out of his mind. It sounded as though maybe he truly had seen the person—and now, only a few minutes later, that entity was dead. The thought was undeniably disturbing.


	3. Ouch

**Notes: Kudos to anyone who's found every _Phantom_ reference (both deliberate and accidental ones) so far! I love this fic. And Liu is mine, but her name was suggested by Aubrie.**

* * *

The group continued on down the hall until they came to a stairwell leading upward into a large storage closet that went the entire length of the stage. Gerald curtly explained that they were now directly above the stage and that the woman with him was the assistant stage manager Andrea. But then neither he nor Andrea said any more, as they were nearing the place where Andrea claimed that the body had fallen. Everyone tensed as they approached.

But then they were all immediately appalled. There was no body on the floor now—just the crowbar that Andrea had mentioned. Whoever had been there was now gone—or else the body had been moved.

"Guys, this is getting really creepy," Tristan muttered, narrowing his eyes at the sight. He couldn't help feeling a certain knotting in his stomach. Obviously they were already plunging into a series of strange and disturbing events. And he was getting sick of it. He rarely had any time to attempt at getting closer to Serenity while all of these things were happening. The only consolation he had was that Duke usually didn't, either. Though, he had to wonder what the raven-haired boy was doing right now. . . .

"Are you sure this is where the body was!" Gerald yelled indignantly, gesturing at the crowbar. He was seriously irritated over this. He was having enough problems already, what with the Phantom and the accidents and the stage light falling. He didn't need bodies to go missing!

"Yes," Andrea retorted impatiently. "Mike found it in here. See, there's the two backdrops." She pointed upward.

"Well, there's nothing here now," Seto growled in annoyance. "It doesn't even look like 'Mike' is here." He was bored with all of this already, but he knew that it all had to be solved if he didn't want Mokuba to be hurt—or for KaibaCorp to be sued. Idly he wondered if the crowbar could be dusted for fingerprints. Deciding to try it, even though he knew it would likely be futile, he bent down with a handkerchief and picked the metal object up, then placed it in his briefcase. He would dust it at home and then run the prints through the master computer in the basement.

"So maybe Mike was just seein' things then and he went to lie down somewhere?" Joey wondered half-hopefully. With their luck, such a thing wasn't likely. Perhaps whoever had killed the first person had come back for Mike. Or maybe the "body" hadn't been dead and it had taken Mike prisoner. Or even Mike could have taken it somewhere else. There were plenty of logical or semi-logical explanations for this.

"I'm afraid not, Joey," Yugi said worriedly. "After all, Andrea saw the body too." He looked around, hoping against hope to find some sort of clue. But everything seemed perfectly normal. It didn't look at all as though something out of the ordinary had taken place . . . at least, not until he looked up and saw the crimson drops splattered near the bottom of one of the backdrops. The boy swallowed hard, shaking a bit at the sight and what it meant.

"Guys . . . you'd better come look at this. . . ."

Instantly the others were there, looking at the blood with mixed feelings of horror and alarm and confusion. It was definitely fresh, so it was either the body's or Mike's, most likely. But the crowbar wasn't stained red, which meant that it had either not been the weapon or that it had not been the only one.

"Well, there goes the hallucination theory," Tristan muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets and growing more uneasy all the time. This was definitely not a joke. Whoever this T.G. was, he had a purpose in pretending to be the Phantom of the play that the theatre was attempting to put on. And they would have to determine what that purpose was. But in the meantime, what were they searching for, exactly? Two corpses?

"Oh my," Bakura gasped, biting his lip and turning away from the sight as he tried to contemplate what they should do. As he did so, he couldn't help but notice something small on the floor that reflected the light. Curiously he bent down to examine it further.

"What's that?" Marik asked, turning to look. He blinked in surprise when Bakura held up a belt buckle that was oval-shaped and a dull silver in color.

"I just found it on the floor now," Bakura said slowly as he straightened up. But where had it come from? Was it Mike's or the corpse's? Or had one of them torn it off their attacker?

Mokuba's eyes widened as he got a glimpse of it. "Let me see that!" he exclaimed. Obligingly Bakura held it out and Mokuba took it, turning it over in his hands thoughtfully. He was certain he recognized it. And it only served to confirm the suspicions he'd been harboring for the last several minutes. "This is Alister's!" the child declared. "I'm sure of it!"

"Alister's!" Téa repeated in disbelief. "But what would he be doing here!" The bikers had made themselves more or less scarce after the events at Julio Industries and then after the Christmas get-together at the Kaiba Manor. None of them had really seen much of the trio since then, though they had known that the former Doom warriors were living in the city. And Alister just didn't seem the theatre type, though he was capable of throwing his voice around in an expert manner.

"I don't know," Mokuba said, shaking his head, "but don't you see, Téa? It fits! He wears a dark coat and has reddish hair. And this looks like one of his belt buckles. He's gotta be around here somewhere. . . ." And immediately he looked about as if hoping to find the quiet and serious burgundy-haired man. But Alister was nowhere in sight.

"If he's here, he's probably injured," Seto remarked, his eyes narrowing. _Or dead, even._ But it didn't make sense to him as to why Alister would be here in the first place, unless he had heard about Mokuba's experience and had come to see if the child was truly alright. If that were so, however, how had he wound up in here and falling down from between two backdrops?

"Well, let's find the guy!" Joey cried. "Maybe he can tell us what the heck's goin' on."

"Or only add to the confusion," Téa said low. She was afraid that they would only find a corpse. _I didn't used to think so morbidly,_ she realized as they began searching through the room for any sign of Alister or Mike. _I guess it's because of all the creepy things we've seen._ And she wasn't sure she liked it. She was usually a positive person, after all. But it seemed to be getting harder and harder to stay positive.

Which is why, when she found a hand hanging out from underneath a toppled shelf, she couldn't help but scream.

* * *

Duke sighed, looking out of his office window at the goings-on below. It was strange, how everything looked so calm while he had a feeling that something strange was happening—or about to happen. But he didn't know what it could possibly be. Del Vinci was in jail now, after all, and everything had been normal for over a month. Duke had even had time to continue attempting to court Serenity, though it still wasn't going all that well. He knew that she only regarded him as a friend. Still, he knew that she thought the same of Tristan. So far, they were on equal ground.

He was about to turn away from the window when he became aware of what looked like lightning slicing through the sky and striking the powerlines right across the street. In the next moment they overloaded and sparked dangerously, looking as though they were about to tear free and fall to the ground below. Duke frowned at this. Lightning wouldn't come out of nowhere. It was cloudy outside, but not in the way it was when a lightning storm was coming. He had to wonder if the lightning had been manmade.

Now he picked up the phone, dialing the number for the power company and sitting on the edge of his desk as the phone rang. When he finally got an answer he introduced himself and explained that there was an emergency across the street from his business. Even as he did so, the lights in his office began to flicker and soon went out, plunging everything into darkness.

* * *

Raphael continued to pet the cat—who bore the nametag "Liu" around her neck—surprised at how relaxed and friendly she was. It was confusing to him as to why the previous owners wouldn't have wanted her, unless she was _too_ friendly for whatever lifestyles they had. But in any case, he was certain that the animal had now found her permanent home. He was fond of her already and certainly didn't want to give her up. And from what he already knew about the breed, he was sure that Liu would fit right in.

Valon watched Raphael stroking the Ragdoll's fur, leaning against the back of the couch with an unreadable expression gracing his features. "So . . . now what?" he asked finally. "It seems like Alister should be comin' back soon. . . ." Their red-haired friend had left some time ago to check on Mokuba, he had said. And since he would never be securing a role in the theatrical production, it seemed to Valon that he was being gone quite a long time.

"It seems like it," Raphael agreed noncommittally as the cat placed her paw on his hand. He blinked at the slightly strange feel of the pawpad against his flesh and then gently lifted the feline's paw up to look at the bottom of it. Upon seeing an odd string of numbers engraved there, his eyes narrowed in confusion.

"What's that?" Valon asked in surprise, seeing Raphael's expression.

"Look at this," Raphael replied, gently lifting Liu into his arms and holding up her left front paw.

Valon blinked, coming to sit on the couch to get a better look. "What the heck is that?" he exclaimed. "A kitty tattoo or somethin'?"

Liu meowed softly, not seeming to mind either the strange numbers on her paw nor all the attention she was now getting. She had been raised around many people and quite adored them, and in spite of the less-than-savory way that she had acquired her "tattoo," she still seemed quite willing to give her trust. Raphael and Valon seemed nice to her and she felt relaxed and calm.

"I don't know," Raphael said after a bit of thought, "but whatever it is, I doubt it belongs there." He made a mental note to call Paulette and ask her about it. Hilda certainly hadn't mentioned anything about the strange imprint on the phone or when she had came. Of course, she had been much too busy flinging insults at Raphael's friends when she had came.

That was when the lights in their house began to flicker. Valon frowned, getting up and going to the window. "It's not stormin'," he observed before wandering into the kitchen and discovering sparks flying from the toaster and other electrical appliances. With a frown he reached out to unplug the toaster.

In the living room Raphael heard a cry of pain and a crash. Frowning, he stood up and headed for the kitchen, Liu still in his arms. "Valon?" he called. Upon not getting an answer he grew concerned. The lights going out didn't help any.

* * *

Everyone started and turned at the sound of Téa's scream.

"What is it, Téa!" Joey exclaimed. "Did you find something?" He got into a fighting stance, but then saw the hand. His eyes immediately widened in shock. "What the HECK!" _That was _not_ what he had wanted to see!_

"Well, don't just stand there!" Téa cried. "Help me lift it up!" She was already struggling with the heavy furniture. Quickly the others—including Atemu, who had emerged from the Puzzle—moved to assist. But instead of Alister, who they were expecting to find, they discovered an unfamiliar man with shaggy white-blonde hair.

"Mike!" Gerald cried in disbelief, kneeling down to check for lifesigns.

"But if he's here, then who did this to him!" Joey burst out in confusion, letting the shelf harmlessly crash onto the floor. Things were getting stranger by the minute. Alister—or his body—had vanished, there was blood on the backdrop, and Mike was laying under a shelf. Of course, T.G. was nowhere to be found.

"That's what I'd like to know!" Tristan grumbled. He half-expected to hear a dastardly chuckle echoing throughout the room. But all was eerily silent, save for their breathing and their concerned voices.

"So . . . how's Mike?" Mokuba asked uncomfortably, shifting from one foot to the other.

"He's still alive," Gerald said, breathing a sigh of relief, "and nothing seems to be broken, but still I suppose he should be investigated by some medical person. . . ." He straightened up, frowning as he said this. If an ambulance had to come there to the theatre, reporters would certainly follow and wonder what new "accident" had occurred. Gerald hated that idea, though he knew that it couldn't be helped in this case.

"Hey," Joey blinked then, noticing something else strange, "look at this. . . ." He pointed to an object that Mike was clutching tightly in his fist—a red belt, minus the buckle. "It kinda looks like maybe he and Alister were fightin' or somethin'. . . ." But he frowned, wondering why such a thing would be. _I mean, aren't they both on the same side?_ He scratched his head in confusion, pondering. Maybe Mike could have been the one who had hurt Alister in the first place and then only pretended to find the body? But that seemed odd. What on earth would have been the motive?

"Okay, things are just getting too weird," Téa moaned. _Will it ever stop? I thought this was going to be a nice, normal play. But we've barely done anything with it and things are anything but normal!_

* * *

He regained consciousness slowly, feeling his back slumped against something hard. After a moment he realized that he was propped up against a wall. As he struggled to open his eyes, he found that it was dark all around him. When he shifted slightly, he felt himself knocking into various objects crowded into the small space. It was most likely a storage closet of some kind, though many times smaller than the roomy one he had been in earlier.

"Ugh," he muttered low, reaching up to rub at his head. It wasn't long before he found a bad bump under his hair. He touched it gingerly and then just leaned back, looking upward and wondering how he was going to get out of here. He supposed that the door was locked, though it wouldn't hurt to check. If he could just force himself to get up. . . . But that was easier said than done. He felt exhausted and drained, and every time he tried to move, he would feel a bit dizzy. So he finally opted just to rest for a moment and try to recall what had happened before.

It was all a jumble in his mind. He recalled coming to the theatre and seeing someone behaving suspiciously—glancing around furtively and such—before going inside through a back entrance. After waiting for a moment, he had followed, wondering if the person intended doing some sort of harm. And actually, he had never truly learned the answer. He had found himself in a corridor backstage and then had overheard Yugi and the others talking. Mokuba had seemed alright, much to his relief, but he hadn't gone over to him because at that moment he had seen the man in question going up a staircase, at the top of which was a door. He then had followed.

The door had led into a storage area where backdrops and other large props were being kept. It had been dark in there, but suddenly he had found himself wrestling with someone. That had gone on for some time until he had felt hard metal drop down on his head. Then everything had gone black.

Again he tried to get up. This time he managed and reached for the doorknob across from him. He shook the knob a bit and realized that he was, indeed, locked in. His gray eyes narrowed in the darkness. If he had something to pick the lock with, he would prefer trying to get out himself rather than banging on the door and making a fuss. There was no telling what was on the other side of the door, after all. Though, since he wasn't tied up, perhaps no one was trying to keep him prisoner for very long.

He fumbled through his pockets, searching for something he could use on the door. At last he produced a pocket knife and began attempting to wedge it between the door and the doorframe, hoping to get it under the spring and pop it open. His attempts didn't seem to be working and he wondered then if maybe he could get the hinges off the door instead. After feeling across the door he found the screws that held the plate that the hinges were attached to. He could only hope that they weren't rusted on.

Carefully he fit the knife in the groove of the screw and concentrated on turning it. It came easily, but the next one was more difficult. A lot of patience was required before he could remove all six of the screws—three on the top, three on the bottom—and push the door open in order to get out.

He blinked at the sudden light that flooded his vision. He was standing in a well-lit corridor that was most likely in some part of the theatre. Indeed, as he glanced about, he saw a door marked "Stage." He frowned vaguely, wondering just how long he had been trapped in the closet. It could have been fifteen minutes, thirty, or even an hour that he had been wrestling with the door. And there was no telling how long he had been unconscious before that.

He glanced downward, noticing that one of his two belts was missing. Luckily, he thought wryly, it was the one that he used mostly for style and not necessity. But he wondered where it had gone. It had come off during the fight, he supposed. Most details of the brawl were not clear in his mind.

Slowly he wandered down the hall, wondering exactly where he should be trying to go. Yugi and the others might still be in Gerald's office, but then again they might have gone somewhere else by now. He wanted to find them and make certain that they hadn't got in trouble—especially Mokuba—but the theatre was large and confusing and they could really be in any number of places. Slowly he opened the door marked "Stage," which really led backstage.

That was when he clanked into someone coming from around the corner. "Sorry," the other person remarked before then screaming in shock. "YAAAAAAA!"

A raised eyebrow was the response.

When Joey finally got control of his surprise, he frowned at the man he had bumped into. "Everyone's wondering if you're dead!" he cried, pointing his forefinger. And really, Alister did look a bit frazzled. His flipped hair seemed to be slightly wild and not neatly combed, as it usually was. He bore a scratch on his cheek and another along his waist. His clothes were rumpled and one of his belts was missing. And he was rubbing his head subconsciously as if it pained him.

"Unless you think I'm a zombie, it should be obvious that I'm not," Alister retorted. "Is Mokuba still alright?"

"He's fine," Joey said, "unlike you. What the heck happened!"

"It would be nice if I really knew that," Alister grunted. He was about to ask where Mokuba was when he noticed something amiss and shoved Joey out of the way, despite his confused protests. In the next moment, a heavy stage curtain fell down right where they had been standing!


	4. Nine Plus Four

For the next moment or so, Joey just stared at the curtain with widened eyes. It had made a tremendous _thump_ upon crashing to the stage. And he knew that some curtains were weighty enough that they could cause injury to any unfortunate soul who happened to be in the way. He had the distinct feeling that he and Alister both could have been hurt. "Holy mackerel!" he cried at last.

Alister, instead of looking at the curtain, was gazing upward at the catwalks. He was certain that someone had deliberately sent the device careening downward to hit them, but he could see no one who could have been responsible. Whoever it had been was already hiding again, probably berating himself—or herself—for the failure. And Alister was not pleased. If he hadn't been alert enough, they could have both been injured. "I doubt that was an accident," he remarked then, still looking about even as he knew it was vain.

"Yeah? I'm sure it wasn't!" Joey cried indignantly. "It's gotta be T.G. again!" Upon seeing Alister's raised eyebrow, the Brooklyn boy added, "The theatre ghost, ya know? The stage manager guy was telling us about him. Today's the first time he's actually gotten mean and violent, hurting people." He slammed his fist into his palm. "And I'm gonna see that it ends right here and now!"

Alister was not impressed. "The perpetrator is long gone by now," he replied. "The last thing you should try to do is something stupid." It dawned on him that Joey reminded him a bit too much of his impulsive friend Valon.

Joey was thinking how much Alister reminded him of Seto Kaiba, though he didn't say so aloud. He knew Alister likely wouldn't appreciate the sentiment. And anyway, he had other things that he was worrying about at the moment.

As it turned out, there were no further life-threatening occurrences at the theatre that night. After Joey and Alister met up with the others—and after Alister retrieved his missing belt—they all mused upon what had been happening. But it was getting late and there were no answers to be had. Mike had been taken to the hospital, where Gerald hoped that he would soon regain consciousness and shed some light on the mystery. Alister was of the opinion that Mike didn't seem to be of the same build as the person was who had attacked him, but if that were so, then how on earth had Mike gotten hold of Alister's belt? It all seemed so absurd and strange. But at last everyone opted to return to their homes. They would sort out the nonsense tomorrow, they decided. It was late and they were tired and weary, and in Alister's case, roughed up and hurt. The blood on the backdrop had been his.

"Maybe you should let a doctor look at you, Alister," Mokuba said worriedly as they were heading for the exit. "I mean, you were unconscious and all that." He paused. "You could come to Seto's infirmary," the child offered then. He knew he wasn't at fault, but still he felt especially bad about Alister being harmed, since the young man had been there in the first place because he had wanted to see if Mokuba was alright.

Alister smiled, touched by the boy's concern. "That's not necessary," he answered gently. "I'm alright." He had had quite enough of this strange theatre and really wanted to go home now. Gently he ruffled Mokuba's hair as he headed for the door. "Stay out of trouble."

"He's got the right idea," Joey remarked. "Let's all go home and deal with this weirdness tomorrow. Alright?" He yawned, rubbed his eyes, and went to the exit as well.

Gerald made them promise that they would, indeed, return to solve the mystery the next day, but at last let them go. They were scheduled to begin the official rehearsals in the next couple of days and he wanted the Phantom caught by then. But he had the feeling that maybe they would have no such luck. . . .

* * *

Raphael set Liu down on the floor and felt his way into the kitchen, again calling for Valon and being concerned upon not receiving a reply. He had to wonder if the Australian had been electrocuted when he had wandered out to unplug the appliances. It was a worry that he didn't answer Raphael's calls.

Lightning lit up the room from outside, revealing that Valon was laying on the kitchen floor. Raphael frowned darkly, kneeling down next to him and fearing the worst. "Valon?" he said quietly, touching the boy's throat carefully. To his immense relief, he found a pulse, and a strong one at that. He was confused as to what had happened, but that didn't really matter as long as Valon was alright.

A moment later the boy moaned, stirring and raising his hand to rub at his head. "Crikey," he muttered, trying to clear the cobwebs from his mind. He took a moment to remember what had happened before he had wound up on the floor.

"Lay still," Raphael told him gruffly, not certain whether his friend had been shocked or not.

"Oh, I'm okay," Valon replied, sitting up. He recalled what had occurred now. He had received a mild shock, surprising him and causing him to fall backwards to hit his head on the edge of the table. Then he had crashed to the floor and hit his head again. When Raphael had found him, he had been dazed but not unconscious.

Raphael shook his head in disbelief when Valon finally told him of his experience. Honestly, the Australian could be so accident-prone at times, he thought wryly. But at least he was alive and relatively alright. Raphael helped Valon stand up when the boy attempted it. Then Liu was underfoot, rubbing against them both and purring.

"She's not like any cat I've ever seen before," Valon remarked, nearly tripping over her. "I thought cats didn't like people."

"Some don't," Raphael shrugged.

That was when two things happened at once—the lights suddenly came back on and the front door opened as Alister came home. The redhead glanced around the living room and then into the kitchen, running his hand through his rain-dampened hair. He regarded the other two bikers quietly until they noticed and greeted him, to which he gave a vague nod in reply. Upon feeling a light weight against his legs, he glanced down to find Liu purring loudly as she rubbed against this new human.

"I see that Hilda came," he commented then.

"Yeah, and she was a real shrew, too," Valon announced. "So where the heck have you been, chum!" He took in Alister's slightly roughed up appearance with curiosity and a bit of concern. Del Vinci's gang _had_ all been stopped, hadn't they? Suddenly Valon felt slightly uneasy. Maybe Alister had found that some of them were still operating and had gone after them and that was why he had taken so long to get back.

"At the theatre," Alister shrugged. He gave an inward sigh as Liu looked up at him and meowed. Actually seeing the cat reminded him all the more of Miruko's kitten. He couldn't forget his brother's heartbroken expression upon finding the beloved pet missing. And it hadn't been that long afterwards when another tragedy had befallen their family. . . . During the war it had been one thing after another.

"You _were_ gone longer than we'd assumed you'd be," Raphael spoke up, noticing Alister's reluctance around Liu. Alister had never told him or Valon of the reason why he didn't associate much with felines, so it generally appeared as though he simply didn't like them. Raphael wondered why that was and if his dislike of cats would eventually become a problem with Liu around. He certainly didn't want that. "Did you run into problems?"

"You could say that," Alister responded after a moment's hesitation. Yes, he would definitely consider what had happened to him as being _problems_. Getting into a fight with an unknown assailant, being knocked unconscious, having his body thrown from between two backdrops (as he had been told had happened), and then reviving in a storage closet were definitely not among his favorite kinds of adventures.

* * *

Marik was happy when he arrived home and found both Ishizu and Rishid there, waiting for him. He wanted to talk things over with them and see if they possibly had any thoughts on who might be responsible for the whole attempt at playing Phantom. Maybe Ishizu would have even had a vision that might help! Now that he thought of it, he remembered that Ishizu's last major vision still hadn't been completely fulfilled. That would likely happen sooner or later.

"It is good you are home, brother," Ishizu smiled upon seeing him come in and after greetings were exchanged. "We were growing concerned because of the storm."

Rishid nodded, knowing how much Marik despised lightning storms (not that he particularly enjoyed them either). "The roads are always dangerous when it's raining, especially for motorcyclists," he said, watching Marik take off his leather jacket and brush the raindrops off of it. He often worried for Marik when he was off riding that blasted bike of his, especially since the boy often rode so recklessly, but he knew how much Marik enjoyed it. It gave him a certain sense of freedom, which was something he still needed and craved after their family's past.

"I'm careful in bad weather," Marik replied. Of course, he believed that he was careful all the time. It was true that he sometimes did dangerous things while riding his motorcycle, but he was certain that he wouldn't get hurt. "There were lots of odd things happening at the theatre, though," he frowned, proceeding to tell his siblings of exactly what had happened.

They both listened grimly, not liking the sound of what they were hearing. Obviously the person couldn't be just playing idle pranks, unless T.G. was someone with a highly demented sense of humor. In that case, whoever it was probably would require a mental hospital when he or she was caught. Unless T.G. wasn't even mortal. . . . Ishizu pondered over all the possibilities she could think of as Marik brought his tale of the day's events to a conclusion.

"This sounds very serious," the soft-spoken woman remarked then, clasping her hands as she sat on the couch with her brothers beside her.

"I know," Marik said, rubbing his eyes. "And so far, there's no leads. The only possible one is that Mike person, if he'll wake up soon. Then there's the chance he won't remember what happened in the first place," he added dryly.

"Mr. Richards has no suspects?" Rishid asked.

Marik shook his head. "None that he mentioned," he replied slowly, "and I assumed if there were any, he would have told us. Unless Andrea interrupted him before he could finish telling us whatever he was going to. After Andrea came and announced about the body, everyone was occupied trying to get to the bottom of that mystery." He sighed and leaned back, placing his hands behind his head. "I suppose maybe we'll learn something more tomorrow."

Ishizu sighed, watching the younger brother whom she and Rishid loved so dearly. "We must admonish you to be careful, my brother," she said quietly, though she was certain that Marik was aware of the danger he and the others were getting into. None of them were strangers to situations of gravity and distress, after all. Oh, most certainly not! All of their lives, really, they had been caught up in displeasing occurrences.

Marik smiled gently. "I will be," he reassured her. _If it's possible._

* * *

The rest of the night passed without further incident. Of course the strange electrical activity throughout the city couldn't be explained. The power company was in a quandary dealing with all of the complaints of power outages and overloading appliances. Only a select few had even the faintest idea of what was going on. Seth and Khu were among them.

"For over a month we've been trying to follow the progress of Runihura," Seth remarked, leaning against the fusebox of a large skyscraper as they waited for dawn. "He strikes somewhere every day, it seems, and he's always one step ahead of us!" He knew his brother was not pleased by this in the least. Khu hated the Destroyer; his hatred was all the more pronounced since the madman had been released from the Eternal Sleep. "Maybe it's hopeless, Khu. Maybe we shouldn't have left the Pharaoh's abode."

Khu yelled in frustration. "Don't," he growled low, "talk to me about the Pharaoh!" He stamped his foot, almost looking to be the younger of the two brothers—though he was actually six years older. He was sick of Seth's allegiance to Atemu. And though he knew it was a horrible thing to think, he knew that he sometimes hadn't minded the times when Seth had been possessed by Akunadin's spirit. At least then he had been willing to help Khu in his quest to overthrow the Pharaoh. But not anymore. And Khu knew he shouldn't think of such things. It had been a living Hell for Seth to spend so much of his time being controlled by a madman. Khu should be grateful that his brother was now free. And really, he was grateful. It was just that he wished Seth would normally be more supportive of him and his efforts.

Seth shrugged and half-turned away. "You're always grumpy these days," he complained. But actually, when he thought of it, when had Khu _not_ been grumpy? It seemed to be just part of his personality. He was wound up much too tightly and he seemed to be constantly nervous and edgy. Even in Egypt he had been like that. Seth had always wondered about it. Frankly, Khu had the ability to make Seth very nervous with his short temper and mad rages.

Khu cursed under his breath. "Is there a reason not to be?" he retorted, leaning on his staff and gazing out over Domino City as the pre-dawn light began to come over the buildings. Runihura had been running wild for over a month and it seemed that they were unable to even catch up to him, let alone to seal him away in suspended animation once more. Why on earth wouldn't Khu be grumpy? It was all maddening!

* * *

Raphael awoke the next morning to a steady motor and a gentle weight upon his back. At first he couldn't determine what on earth was going on, but then he remembered Liu and realized that she must have come to wake him up. Or maybe he had even been in such a deep sleep that she had curled up on his back and slept there all night, though he somewhat doubted that. But at any rate, she was here now, and seemed very contented indeed.

"You like people, don't you?" the blonde man muttered as he woke up more. He reached behind him to gently lift Liu down so that he could roll onto his side. The cat only purred more, seeming to not mind anything that was done. Once she was placed on the bed, the Ragdoll stretched out and laid her head on the pillow, facing Raphael. Her tattooed paw was also facing him and he took the opportunity to memorize the sequence of the numbers, in case such would later be important.

It amazed Raphael at how docile the feline was, especially after whatever had happened that had resulted in her adornment. It seemed to him that some animals would be extremely shy of people after having the numbers pressed into them, but Liu acted as if nothing had happened. Raphael knew that the Ragdoll breed was noted for loving people and following owners around like adoring dogs, but still it seemed that Liu took things almost to an extreme. She was constantly around one or all of the bikers, seeming to love them each equally and not wanting to be away from them. And while she was highly inquisitive about the home and everything in it, she preferred human company to exploring.

Downstairs Raphael could hear the front door opening and he idly wondered if either Alister or Valon was up and leaving the house for some reason. But then he heard the door open again a moment later and Valon singing some random Linkin Park song. Down the hall the sound of the shower came on, signaling that Alister was up now as well. Raphael was slightly amused. Usually he himself was the first one up. He glanced at the clock, wondering what time it was. He was surprised to discover that it was after nine. It seemed that all of them must have slept in late. But then again, it wasn't all that surprising, he supposed, since none of them had even gotten to bed until it was extremely late.

Now he heard Valon coming up the stairs. The Australian went straight to the bathroom door and knocked. "Hey, Alister! Somethin' came for you in the mail," he called, examining the envelope in his hands. Normally he wouldn't bother coming to deliver such information, but what he was holding was so odd-looking that he thought perhaps it bore immediate attention. At any rate, he was highly curious about the contents.

Alister grunted, letting the soothing feel of the shower beat down on his shoulders. "Who is it from?" he called back. It puzzled him a bit, since there was no one he knew of who would be writing to him. And yet he didn't think Valon would call his attention to a mere bill or some irritating advertisement.

"Dunno," Valon answered. "There's no return address. In fact, all it says on it is 'Mackenzie' in red ink. Kinda looks like blood."

Neither Raphael nor Alister was extremely happy by this announcement. If it looked like blood, chances were that the sender had intended exactly that. And if that had been the intention, it wasn't likely that the contents were friendly. It wasn't as if Alister normally got letters addressed to "Mackenzie," either. He rarely got letters at all, save for the occasional, innocently childlike notes from Pierre Martindale, a sweet young boy whom Alister had rescued once from kidnappers.

"Set it on my bed and I'll look at it later," Alister directed. He had the feeling that he knew what the letter might be—or at least, what the general thoughts therein might contain. And there was no need to involve his friends in that. They had gotten involved with enough of his problems in the past and had wound up hurt.

Several minutes later, when Alister was dressed and in his room, Raphael came and stood in the doorway. "I couldn't help but hear what Valon was saying," he remarked, crossing his arms. He watched as Alister picked up the envelope, looked it over, and then slit it open. He had grown more concerned about what the message might be, especially since now he could see that there wasn't even a stamp on the envelope. Someone had personally delivered it here.

"I'm not surprised," Alister responded, removing a slip of paper from the envelope and frowning at it. The only thing written on it was an equation, one that Alister was not pleased to see.

Nine plus four equals thirteen

Raphael ventured into the room now, seeing Alister's annoyed expression. "What's with the equation?" the blonde asked with confusion, having a bad feeling about the answer.

Alister didn't respond immediately, instead pondering over this message in his mind. "I'm guessing," he said finally, "that it has something to do with the fact that both nine and four have double meanings in Japanese. The nine can mean excruciating torture, to my knowledge, and the four can mean death. Thirteen had no double meaning that I know of, unless it just means bad luck—which torture and death certainly are." Here his voice took on a note of sarcasm. The phrasing on the paper was not what he had expected, but the general idea being conveyed was. This was most definitely a death threat.


	5. Rivals

**Notes: I should have remembered to say this last chapter, but the equation thing is from a Nancy Drew mystery, _The Thirteenth Pearl._ It wasn't my idea, though I wish it had been. XD;**

**Also, DANG! Runihura hasn't even really done anything yet. In the last couple of mysteries he's hovered in the background, waiting for his chance to take over the center stage. Now he finally has his chance, so if people will just be patient, things will quickly get a lot darker and Runihura will become more and more interesting. I'm certainly not retiring him yet. XD; I have big plans for the guy. If anyone doesn't like it or him, there's no reason why they have to continue reading the story.**

* * *

Seto was feeling frustrated. The crowbar had carried fingerprints, much to his surprise, but when he had run the prints through the super computer's files, nothing had come of it. _But how could that be?_ he yelled mentally, running a hand through his hair in vexation. His computer had connected with national and international fingerprint files. If the person existed, his or her prints should have been found somewhere! "This doesn't make sense!" he snapped aloud, glaring at the large computer screens. 

"Well, don't blame me," the computer retorted, sounded ruffled. "I was lookin' everywhere. Maybe the guy's from the old days." She made an irritated beep as she displayed the _Sorry, No Matches Found_ page for Seto to look at again. "According to all the evidence, he doesn't exist now."

Seto rolled his eyes. "Oh, so you're going to start on me with the hocus-pocus too?" he muttered. Of course by now he had been forced to accept that entities from ancient Egypt had chosen to help populate Domino City, but that didn't mean he had to be happy that his computer was now suggesting that it was one of them who had used the crowbar. _Why couldn't it be a normal villain for once?_

"You know it's possible," the computer said smoothly. "Don't get all nasty because it might be true."

Seto leaned back in his chair, growling low. "It doesn't even make sense," he retorted. "Why would any of them be at a theatre? What would they have to gain from it?"

"You got me," the computer replied. "What do you wanna do now?"

"It doesn't look like there is anything more we can do with this angle," Seto answered irritably.

"Big brother?"

Seto whirled at the sound of Mokuba's voice and found him standing in the doorway, rubbing his eye sleepily. The child's hair obviously hadn't been brushed yet, as the raven locks were going out every which way. He yawned, blinking at Seto and seeming confused as to why his brother was down in the super computer room this early in the morning.

"What is it?" Seto asked, slightly amused as he observed his brother.

"What's going on?" Mokuba returned, noticing the crowbar. "Did you find anything out?" He knew Seto wasn't happy about him continuing to work at the theatre after the incidents of yesterday, but he was hoping that Seto wouldn't decide that because of what happened to Alister, Mokuba wouldn't be able to go back. He had been enjoying his job and didn't want some strange, obsessed T.G. to ruin it all for him—nor did he want to see people getting hurt. _Things were just settled down!_ he bemoaned silently. They had experienced over a month without criminal incidents. Was it too much to ask for more than that?

Seto shook his head. "Only that whoever was wielding the weapon isn't registered in America, Japan, or anywhere else," he grumbled.

"Unless we're just not able to access some of the records," the computer chimed in, "but that's not likely."

Mokuba groaned, sitting down on one of the other chairs. "So . . . what's gonna happen, Seto?" he asked finally. _Are you gonna make me leave the theatre?_

Seto shook his head. "I don't know yet," he growled, "but I don't like you being at the theatre. Possibly the light falling could have passed as an accident, but what happened to Alister was most definitely deliberate. That changes things."

"But Seto!" Mokuba protested. "This is the first time I've really had a job besides helping you at the company. And I mean, I like helping you and everything, but . . . I like doing other things too." He looked at his elder brother pleadingly. Seto could sometimes be overprotective, though Mokuba was mature enough to realize that this wasn't one of those times. But still, he didn't want to give up his job. He just didn't!

Seto sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I know," he replied. Mokuba was growing up, though he didn't always want to acknowledge it. "But there are other theatres, Mokuba. This one isn't safe right now." And he was highly annoyed. KaibaCorp had purchased the theatre a while back, only because it was part of a bigger property deal that Seto had been interested in. But since they now owned the theatre, Seto knew that KaibaCorp could wind up taking the heat for the disasters that were going on. He needed to get to the bottom of this, for more reasons than one.

Mokuba sighed too. "Yeah," he said slowly, "only . . . I was really having fun with _The Phantom of the Opera_ play. I was telling Marik and Bakura all about it just yesterday." He leaned forward, placing his hands on his knees. "If we find out who's doing this, Seto, then couldn't I keep working there?"

"Oh, we will find out, Mokuba," Seto replied. "It's just a matter of when." He frowned at the _No Matches Found_ screen on the computer. "And how."

* * *

Yugi, Joey, Tristan, and Téa found themselves back at the theatre around ten that morning. Gerald was not in a good mood when they arrived. He was in his office, glaring at the latest note he had received from T.G. When Andrea showed the four teens into the office, Gerald immediately looked up and held the note out.

"Look at this!" he cried. "Whoever T.G. is, he already found out about the investigation!" His eyes flashed angrily.

"What do you mean, Mr. Richards?" Yugi asked worriedly as Joey grabbed the note and looked it over. Upon seeing the Brooklyn boy frown darkly, the short boy gave him a concerned, violet-eyed gaze. "What does it say?"

"It says that he doesn't appreciate bein' investigated like this and that it's best if it stops before someone isn't just 'only injured'!" Joey replied indignantly. "Basically, it sounds like a death threat!" He let Tristan take the note when he wanted a better look. Then the blonde teenager glowered around the office, wondering if it was possible for the Phantom to hear them talking in there. Though, he did remember that they had also been discussing things backstage. Someone could have easily overheard them then.

"That's exactly what it is!" Gerald retorted. "And Mike hasn't regained consciousness yet. They think he has a bad concussion!" That news didn't help his mood any. He had wanted Mike to be able to tell them something concrete on what had happened, but it didn't look as though that would be happening for a while.

Téa sighed, not liking how this was going at all. "Are there any possible suspects?" she asked now.

"Not really," Gerald growled, "at least—none that make sense. It could be someone in the cast or crew, even, but why would they do it? We've all been quite pleased with the choice of performing _The Phantom of the Opera._" He frowned, mulling things over in his mind. Now that he thought of it, there was possibly one logical suspect or so. "It might be someone at the other theatre," he announced then. "They've always hated us down here, especially since KaibaCorp bought the property. Yes," he exclaimed now, becoming certain in this thought, "it must be Sigmund!" He stood up, banging his hand on the desk. "He wants to ruin me, and I'm sure he wouldn't mind blighting the Kaiba Corporation as well!"

Four amazed teens blinked at him. "But why?" Yugi wanted to know then. "What did you—or KaibaCorp—do to him!" _Poor  
Kaiba, _he thought to himself. _It seems like he always has some enemy or another! Gosh, I wonder if that's what always happens when you're a multimillionaire CEO. . . ._

"My theatre is more successful than his and always has been," Gerald answered. "As for Kaiba's company, I don't know why he hates that, but he does. Maybe it's just because Kaiba owns half the city." He threw his hands in the air. "But we've been rivals for years. It would be just like him to pull some annoying stunt like this! He would probably think he was being extremely amusing. Well, I don't find it amusing in the least!"

Tristan sighed, supposing that he should be grateful for any lead, instead of feeling the frustration over the new mystery to solve. _But ever since Yugi found the Millennium Puzzle, our lives have never been peaceful!_ he bemoaned. And Tristan hadn't even met Yugi until there had been the Puzzle, so pretty much for the entire length of time that they had been friends, there had been weird things transpiring. Tristan had no hope of things ever being different, but that didn't mean he wouldn't complain every now and then. "So basically you want us to go there and check things out," he said finally, after attempting to put a lid on his simmering vexation.

"At least some of you," Gerald told him. "Miss Gardner's already working here and she'll make a great Meg, so she should stay. Why don't you and the blonde go?" he suggested, looking from Tristan to Joey.

"Hey, I've got a name," the brown-eyed boy said in irritation. "Why dontcha try usin' it!" He didn't care much for Gerald or his attitude. But that didn't mean he would balk at solving the case. He knew it was important that T.G. be caught before people wound up seriously hurt . . . or worse. But as far as he was concerned, he agreed with Marik's words that they wouldn't be helping for Gerald's sake.

"Names, names, what's in a name?" Gerald muttered in reply.

* * *

Serenity sighed to herself, sitting down on the pink comforter that was spread over her bed. She had found Joey gone upon coming back from running errands with their mother. And she was afraid that he had gone off to solve another mystery, though his note had merely said that he was at a theatre. Serenity knew that Joey had little interest in the stage. She was certain that he had gone to the theatre where Mokuba had been nearly harmed the day before, in an attempt to find out what had happened. There was no other logical reason for Joey to visit such a place.

"You're always going off doing some dangerous thing, Joey," she said sadly, running her hand over the quilt's soft material. "I wish you wouldn't. . . . At least," she mused upon reflection, "I wish I could come along more often. I'd feel more at peace if I could be right with you and know what was happening to you. . . ." She laid back across the mattress. "But then . . . I know why I can't."

She knew that Joey was only protecting her and that he didn't want her to be hurt, but it was still frustrating. She wasn't a child any longer. Indeed, she was growing up into quite the intelligent, resourceful young woman. She had been sheltered for most of her life by their mother, sometimes making her seem younger than her actual age, but she really wasn't as absurd as some people tried to make her out to be. She had to wish that Joey would more often see her as more than a child. "I just want to help you, big brother," she whispered. "I want to be there for you more."

She looked up when her mother called her to the phone. It seemed that Duke had some free time and that he wondered if Serenity would like to join him for lunch. And, after a bit of thoughtful pondering, she agreed. She liked Duke, though not as anything more than a friend. She suspected that his feelings for her ran a bit deeper, though he hadn't ever said anything to that effect.

* * *

It wasn't really a surprise when Raphael called Paulette about the marks on Liu's paw and Paulette couldn't tell him anything about how they'd gotten there. According to her, Liu had already been tattooed when she had been returned to them by her prior owners. When Paulette and her husband discovered the marks and tried to contact the people to ask about them, they found that those people had vanished completely. Raphael hung up the phone with a frown, watching Liu as she perched on the back of a chair and blinked lazily at him.

"What happened to you?" Raphael muttered, sitting down and reaching over to pet the cat. He, frankly, had started to wonder if the numbers were some sort of important code for something. And as Liu hopped down onto his lap and continued her happy purring, Raphael suddenly thought he recalled what the numbers had been. He had been too tired before to let it really register, but now he was wide awake. Quickly he raised the feline's left paw to look. Sure enough, printed on her paw pad were the numbers 9, 4, and 13. Raphael's frown darkened.

"Twice in one day?" The blonde raised an eyebrow, pondering over this oddity. Did it have any connection with the death threat Alister had received? It seemed too much of a coincidence. But why would someone print numbers that could spell a death threat on an innocent cat's paw? Surely there must be another meaning. Raphael just wished he could figure out what it might be.

Liu simply purred on, placing her front paws on Raphael's chest and looking highly contented. Raphael shook his head slowly, admittedly amused by the beautiful cat. She seemed to be happiest when she was with people, unlike many of her kind.

The near-silence was abruptly shattered by the sounds of an argument coming from the kitchen. Raphael groaned, hearing Valon's voice raising in volume and anger as he started to accuse Alister of being too silent and of having some new enemy that was sending him a death threat. "You never tell us anything!" the Australian yelled. "And then you just go off and get in trouble! You're always getting in some kinda trouble!"

Alister grunted. "Actually, isn't that rather a hypocritical statement?" he observed. He could think of many times when he and Raphael had needed to come to Valon's rescue.

Valon hit the table with a fist. "You're gonna wind up kicking the bucket one of these times!" he retorted. "And where the heck will that leave me and Raph!"

"Without me," Alister replied flatly.

"Yeah!" Valon exclaimed. "And we don't wanna wind up without you! Don't you get it!"

Raphael shook his head. Valon was such an emotional person, but he loved his friends very much. He didn't want anything bad to happen to either of them. Raphael knew that often, when Valon and Alister started arguing, it was when one was upset and worried about the other. But that didn't make their arguing any less frustrating to listen to at times.

"Don't worry," Alister was saying now. "I won't wind up dying." He stood up, walking across the kitchen to check on the eggs that were cooking.

"'Don't worry,'" Valon muttered in response. "'Don't worry,' he says. Don't worry after he tangles with Mafia dons and gets death threats. Ha!"

Alister stiffened slightly at the mention of Mafia dons. Del Vinci was still a sensitive subject around him, one that he didn't like to discuss. It was over a month and he was still trying to sort out his confused feelings over what had taken place at Del Vinci's skyscraper. He still didn't have any concrete answers on why he had chosen to do what he had. He wished he did understand it. But though he had spent many hours soul-searching, it still didn't make sense to him. Del Vinci had deserved to die for his cruel actions, and Alister could have ensured that it happened. But instead he had fired the bullets into the floor and dropped the gun. He wasn't certain that he would ever understand it.

* * *

"So . . . this is the Desert Star Theatre?" Joey blinked as he pulled up in his jalopy next to a slightly rundown building that was across town from the theatre he and Tristan had just come from. It didn't look like the most inviting place to visit. _No wonder the other theatre gets more business,_ the Brooklyn boy thought to himself.

"That's what the sign says," Tristan replied, and then frowned. "I guess. . . ." He blinked at the missing letters on the marquee. Instead of Desert Star Theatre, it seemed that they were proudly being welcomed to the "Dsrt Str Thatr."

Joey sighed as he turned off the engine and started to climb out. "I hope this won't take too long," he muttered, wondering exactly what their cover was going to be and how they would go about trying to glean information. He didn't voice his pondering, but Tristan was obviously thinking about the same thing.

"I guess we could pretend to be reporters for the school paper," the hazel-eyed boy mused as they headed for the entrance. "If this Sigmund guy really has a grudge against Richards, he'd probably jump at the chance to make his rival look bad." And that seemed a more logical cover than trying to get jobs at the theatre. Sigmund would more likely talk to reporters about his woes rather than just a couple of kids looking for work. Besides, he didn't really want to try working there, and he could see that Joey felt the same.

The inside of the building wasn't much more desirable than the outside. The walls were old and yellowed, the paint peeling and cracks visible in the ceiling. The furniture that was around looked old and worn. Some of the chairs even sported tears and rips. Joey shook his head, reminded too much of his old neighborhood.

The bored receptionist directed them down a bare corridor to Sigmund's office once they gave their names and made-up reason for coming. Apparently she didn't think they would have any reason for lying, so she didn't bother asking for any sort of proof that they really worked for the school paper. Once they were out of earshot, both boys breathed sighs of relief.

Sigmund looked up as soon as they approached. He was an older man with graying hair and glasses. When he was informed by Joey of who they were, he immediately leaped out of his chair and glared suspiciously at them both. "You're both spies!" he declared. "Richards sent you here to spy on me!"

"Now that's not it at all!" Tristan retorted in frustration. "We're just reporters trying to get a good story about the two main theatres in town." He glanced at Joey, hoping that he would take it from here.

"That's right," Joey chimed in. "So . . . it's true then that you don't like Gerald Richards?" _Though, who could blame you?_

"'Don't like him'!" Sigmund cried hotly. "I loathe him! I despise him! But do you know what else?" He barreled right on, stunning both Joey and Tristan. "He feels just the same—or more so! He actually sent me a death threat once!"


	6. The Organ

"Whaaat?" Joey cried. "A death threat? What are you talking about?" He frowned suspiciously at Sigmund, as did Tristan. What was going on here?

Sigmund frowned too. "Well, if you don't know, I'm not going to tell you," he retorted childishly, crossing his arms as he glared down at them both. "What kind of reporters are you if you don't know about that?" He smirked now. "And don't bother answering that. I know who you really are!" He pointed an accusatory finger, causing both boys to step back in shock. "Did you think I really wouldn't recognize Joseph Wheeler?"

The teens blinked. Then Joey felt a burst of pride coming on. "Well, sure you would!" the blonde boy proclaimed. Tristan groaned.

"Let's see," Sigmund continued, "you placed second at Duelist Kingdom, and you got quite far in Kaiba's Battle City, too. And you've been solving mysteries with your friends. Would I be right in saying that this is another one of them?"

Tristan decided that it was fruitless to deny it any longer. "Yeah, it is," he said boldly, "and you're a suspect! Now what's this about a death threat?" Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw something strange on the desk and he moved forward to look, trying to appear inconspicuous at the same time.

"Oh, a suspect, am I?" Sigmund grumped. Joey would have yelled at Tristan for being so blunt, but then he saw that the man didn't seem all that upset that he'd been accused. "Well, that isn't a surprise," he confirmed then. "I'm certain Gerald made you think I was guilty."

"Yeah, he did," Joey said, "and now you're making _him_ look guilty!" He was frustrated. If there was such an intense rivalry between them, how would he and Tristan really know which one was telling the truth? They could each be exaggerating to make the other look bad. _Maybe,_ he thought, _this idea was pointless and will get us nowhere._

"Well, good," Sigmund smirked now, "he deserves it for once, after always casting me in a bad light while he marched on unaffected and continued to draw crowds to his theatre! I heard about what's started to happen there and I confess right now that I'm not behind it. I do wish I was, though. It was an excellent idea. Now he'll be the one getting the bad publicity!"

"Come on, dude!" Tristan snapped, unable to hold his tongue, "people are starting to get hurt! No matter how ticked off you are at Richards, how can you be glad to hear about what's happening? At least three people were attacked yesterday and they all could've been killed!" He was disliking this person even more than Gerald, he discovered, though both of them were irritating and it was easy to see how they'd started up their heated rivalry.

"But they weren't, were they?" Sigmund answered smoothly. "I'm certain that whoever's doing this isn't going to get anyone so badly hurt that they won't recover. They just want to ruin Gerald Richards."

"Yeah, and what better way to do that than to kill someone at his theatre!" Tristan snapped. "One of those people is in the hospital!" His hazel eyes flashed. "Let's go, Joey. I think we've learned all we need to know here." He gave Joey a look that meant Don't Argue. Now, with what he'd seen on that paper, things were only getting stranger. He would tell Joey about it when they were outside.

Joey was only too happy to follow his friend out. "I wish I could say it's been cool meetin' you," he said to Sigmund, "but I wish I never had! You're disgusting!" Sigmund seemed unaffected by the remark and only smirked as the two boys left his office.

* * *

"So, what's this all about, Tristan?" Joey demanded as soon as they were outside again. "I was all set to really give him a piece of my mind, but you wanted to split!" He frowned in confusion at his friend.

Tristan looked back firmly. "I saw something weird on his desk," he replied. "There was a note saying 'Now Richards will never succeed! The opening performance of _The Phantom of the Opera_ will go out with a bang!' It sure made him sound guilty."

"What?" Joey glared all the more. "You shoulda confronted him about that!"

Tristan shook his head. "Let's watch him for a while," he said, "and see if we can catch him doing something suspicious."

"But by that time someone else may've gotten really hurt!" Joey protested. He wanted to take action _now!_ But then, he always had been impulsive that way. Tristan was more the type to think things out first—generally, anyway. He had his rash moments as well.

"That's why we've gotta do a good job!" Tristan retorted. "Problem is, he knows us now—and seems to have known about at least you before we even got here! We need someone he doesn't know at all to spy on him." He paused, mentally going through the list of their friends. "Téa can't do it, obviously, since she has a job with Richards."

"And he might remember Bakura from the Battle City Finals, if he's kept up to date on all that stuff," Joey chimed in as they reached the jalopy and climbed in.

"So who does that leave. . . ." Tristan mused some more. Mokuba was also out. And Seto wasn't even a possibility to begin with. Neither Joey or Tristan would want Serenity to do it. And Duke would probably also be recognized. With Marik, there was the same problem as with Bakura. And his siblings were naturally too busy to chase rude theatre managers around.

"Not a lot of choices," Joey replied as he started the engine. "Maybe I could ask Valon to do it or somethin'. . . ."

Tristan hung on for dear life as Joey maneuvered his way out of the parking lot. "Yeah, maybe," he muttered. But he still wasn't sure he trusted Valon. After all, he and his two cronies had caused a lot of trouble during Doom. Still, there surely wasn't a reason to fear. The bikers had all been helpful during the misadventure at Del Vinci's skyscraper. Valon had almost been killed during that time! "We hadn't even seen any of them since the fiasco in December, though," he remarked, "until Alister showed up yesterday."

Joey shrugged. "They're probably easy to find," he said in an offhand way. "Maybe they're in the phone book or somethin'. We can check. But for now, let's go report on what we've found out." He drove around the next corner, accidentally running over the curb with the car's left wheels. Tristan winced.

"Be careful!" he scolded. "I don't want to wind up in the hospital!"

Joey only grinned. "Don't worry about it!" he replied. Easier said than done.

* * *

Serenity looked around the café with fascination as she and Duke were guided to a booth near the window. "Wow," she murmured softly, "it's so nice here." It was a cozy place, with a checkered floor and several lazily-turning ceiling fans overhead.

Duke smiled. "I thought you'd like it, Serenity," he said, and stepped aside as they reached their booth. "Ladies first." He smirked a bit to himself in satisfaction as Serenity smiled shyly and slid into the nook. He then followed, glad for once to have a chance to be with Serenity without Tristan being along. It seemed that Tristan was always poking his nose into things and not allowing Duke to have a moment's peace with getting to know Serenity. _Though, _he mused after their orders were taken, idly twirling a piece of hair around his fingers, _I suppose Tristan _did_ see her first. But still. . . ._

His thoughts were interrupted as Serenity spoke.

"What do you think about all these weird things happening with the electricity, Duke?" she asked hesitantly. She wanted an answer, and yet, she was almost afraid to think of various possibilities. What if it was that strange man Joey had told her about, the one back from Ancient Egypt? He had sounded so dangerous. Serenity hated to think that he was still lurking about, causing problems for all the unlucky citizens. But she supposed that he wouldn't likely go away any time soon.

"Well. . . ." Duke found himself equally hesitant on what to tell her. He didn't want to frighten the poor girl. And yet he didn't want to gloss things over, either, the way Tristan usually did. Duke felt that it was better to come out and be honest, no matter what the subject matter was. "I guess there's no way of really knowing anything for sure," he said at last as their food arrived. "Maybe it's just that the power company is having a lot of trouble this winter, with the storms and all."

Serenity sighed, picking up her fork. "I know," she replied, "and I've thought of that, too, but . . . I don't know. . . . I'm afraid it's something worse." She looked at Duke sadly, her hazel eyes awash with emotions. "I'm afraid it's something we'll all get involved with, and then people will get hurt. . . . It always happens when things go wrong!" She couldn't forget all the horrible things she had seen ever since being able to see her brother again during Battle City. It was always something, it seemed to her. _How does Joey stand it?_

Duke sighed too. "That's possible," he agreed, eating slowly. "But I wouldn't worry too much about it. After all, we've come out of these things fine in the past, haven't we?" And yet he knew that they had all been in serious danger multiple times. It was ridiculous to assume that they'd always come out of things fine. There would come a time, he was sure, when they wouldn't. Someone would wind up badly injured—or worse.

Serenity looked down. "Yeah," she said softly, "but I'm still worried, Duke. . . . I'm really worried . . . for my big brother, for Tristan . . . and for you, too." She looked up at him again. "I don't want anything to happen to any of you!" A few tears came to her eyes, but she held them back. "The things I've seen . . . especially that time when we all went to Cooperstown . . . it was horrible, Duke! I don't want anything like that to ever happen again!" Upon seeing his slightly surprised expression, she blushed and gazed down at her food, managing to eat a bit of it.

"I'm sorry," she murmured now, "I shouldn't be bringing all of this up now, when you were being so nice as to invite me to lunch with you. . . ." But the urge to tell someone about her concerns had been overwhelming. Joey hadn't been around very much as of late, and he usually tried to gloss things over when they did talk. Serenity had wanted to talk with someone who would be honest with her, and she had known that Duke would be. And so, now that she was with him, all of her fears had come tumbling out of her mouth.

"No," Duke said quickly, getting over his momentary amazement, "it's alright, Serenity. I'm glad you're telling me this. You have a perfect right to be upset, after everything you've been through." _I was just a bit surprised that you're that worried over me._ It felt rather nice, in a way, to know that she cared, even if it wasn't the way he hoped she would.

"I thought I recognized you!"

Both Duke and Serenity looked up, startled at the new interruption. Coming toward them was a girl Serenity didn't know, though Duke did. He blinked in stunned surprise at the short blonde.

"Becky!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

* * *

After the late breakfast, when Valon had gone upstairs to his room, Raphael picked up Liu and brought her over to Alister, who was still at the kitchen table. The redhead looked up when Raphael entered, raising an eyebrow in confusion at the feline he was carrying.

"Look at this," Raphael said flatly in explanation. He held up Liu's decorated paw for Alister to see.

The younger man leaned forward, studying the numbers. He frowned, unable to determine what was meant but recognizing the uncanny coincidence. "Strange," he murmured. Liu pawed at him, laying her padded foot on top of his head. Alister grunted at this.

Raphael was amused. "She likes you," he remarked.

Alister shrugged, looking away quickly. "She probably would like anyone who doesn't hurt her," he replied. "Maybe we should try to find out more about her previous owners." The coincidence seemed too absurd to simply brush off. Alister wanted to know why Liu had been tattooed with the same numbers that had been used in a death threat against him.

Raphael sat down, letting Liu sit on his lap. "The only thing I know is what Paulette told me earlier when I called her on the phone—that her previous owners didn't like her and that after she was returned and the numbers were discovered, Paulette and her husband tried to contact the people but couldn't find them."

"Maybe they were criminals," Alister suggested matter-of-factly.

Raphael sighed. "I've thought of that, too," he said, "but it doesn't make sense. If this is an important code for something, why would they have returned her?" He wondered if a cruel person had just made the tattoos to torture the cat. But that didn't change the fact that the choice of numbers was highly odd.

Liu hopped over to Alister's lap and snuggled against his bare waist. He started, not having expected that at all. Slowly he looked down at the purring animal, recalling when Miruko's kitten had slept on the bed with him, contentedly burrowed against the covers and soft pillow. He had told his brother not to let the cat sleep on the bed with him, but Miruko hadn't seen anything wrong with it and the feline had continued to do so anyway, so finally their mother had given up and allowed it. That stubborn kitten had been carried everywhere by Miruko. . . .

"Is there any particular reason why you don't like cats?"

Raphael's voice brought him back to the present. Alister shrugged, giving Liu back to him.

"I didn't say I didn't like them," he remarked, standing up and brushing stray cat hairs away.

"You act like it," Raphael returned, petting Liu gently. He didn't want to part with the cat, but he also didn't want to keep her if it would make Alister uncomfortable. When Liu had snuggled against the redhead, Raphael had seen an unreadable expression in his eyes. He had seemed faraway, and saddened. Raphael wondered what sorts of memories Liu unearthed.

Alister shook his head. "I don't dislike them," was all he would reply before leaving the room.

Raphael sighed to himself, deciding to call Paulette back and see if she had managed to find the names of Liu's previous owners in her records. Liu purred on in oblivious bliss.

* * *

Things hadn't been any less eventful at Gerald's theatre. A rehearsal had been started and Téa was in the middle of the _Angel of Music_ number with the girl playing Christine Daaé, while Yugi stood to the side with the other cast members and watched. As Téa sang the line "Christine, you must have been dreaming," the lights all went out, plunging the windowless theatre into darkness.

Instant pandemonium rang out. Yugi gasped in surprise, trying to avoid being knocked over by bewildered extras as he called for Téa. Then, as he weaved around between two dancers, he suddenly froze in utter shock.

_Someone was playing the organ that was backstage! And not only that, it was the overture to _The Phantom of the Opera_ that was being played!_

"Téa?" Yugi called again, moving forward and wondering who this person was. As the Millennium Puzzle glowed, allowing a bit of light to sweep the area, the music stopped. When Yugi reached the organ, Téa was already there, staring at it in disbelief. No one was there!


	7. Christine

**Notes: As you all know, this story has been grievously stalled lately. Aubrie (author Yaminah Tashanazi) is not willing to let it continue happening. Therefore, we have decided to make this a collaboration. The following chapter was written by both of us, with the first and last segments being mainly of Aubrie's creation, with alterations and the other two scenes written by me. Expect this sort of thing to continue for the remainder of the fic. Thank you and enjoy!**

**EDIT: As per Yaminah's suggestion, I should state that Tazi is her character. No stealing! **

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* * *

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As half the lights came back on, Yugi and Téa continued to stare at the organ. Everything looked untouched, as though the musical instrument had truly been playing on its own. Murmurs spread across the stage and they could hear Gerald yelling angrily somewhere in the audience seating. Atemu appeared beside Yugi to take his own study of the organ. The glow of the Puzzle dimmed while the other half of the lights flickered back to life. Everything upon the stage was bathed in the light so that nothing could be hidden.

"Well, this certainly goes under strange," Téa commented sarcastically. She then turned to look at the rest of the stage and its occupants. "Is everyone okay?" Yugi took a quick glace to the stage before going back to inspect the organ.

"Nothing looks out of place," he said to himself and somewhat to his other half. Atemu nodded in agreement as he lightly touched the keys. They gave under his touch and released soft, eerie sounds.

The former Pharaoh continued his investigation with the music book. The booklet was open to the first half of _Angel of Music_. He carefully picked it up and caught a small piece of paper as it slipped out from the beginning end of the book. At first, Atemu figured it was just a note the organist had made to herself for a difficult part, but then he turned it over.

"Yugi," Atemu said as he held the slip of paper to him. "You may wish to take a look at this." Yugi took it and looked to his partner curiously.

"What is it?" Yugi's eyes widened as Atemu pointed to the note.

_Your destruction will be my pleasure! I suggest you take heed of my warnings. _

_Or don't, it doesn't matter to me in the least!_

_-T.G._

"Not another one!" he cried. His shoulders slumped with a heavy sigh. "This is just what we need. . . ." Obviously things were only going to get worse from here on out, the boy decided pessimistically. After all, that was the way things usually went, was it not? Never a moment's peace. It all got frustrating after a while. Even mild-tempered Yugi could reach a breaking point, and he felt that he was almost at it.

Atemu nodded absent mindedly. His index finger had caught the page from which the note had fallen. It was no surprise to find it to be the page of _The_ _Phantom of the Opera_ theme and opening. He frowned at it and closed the book. Whoever had done this had put quite a bit of effort to keep to the act, though the note was a bit different and something disturbingly new. It brought about new suspicions to say the least.

His eyes narrowed as his thoughts concentrated on the note and those that had come previous to it. Continuous plots and dangerous pranks could not continue like this as the date of the debut of the play drew nearer. While this incident did not appear to have conceived an injury, it certainly could have. Of course, he had not heard anyone's response to Téa's question, so there really could have been an accident. Frustration continued to boil. Who was this deranged joker! As if they did not have enough problems on a daily basis.

"Hey!" Atemu snapped to attention as Gerald's screaming rose to fill the auditorium. All chatting ceased on stage and all eyes went to the obviously angry man. "Where the devil is our Christine!" Everyone looked about, startled at the theatre owner's discovery. The talking rose louder than before as everyone asked each other similar questions.

"What!" Téa looked about frantically. "She wasn't too far away from me when the lights went out!" She looked across the stage and found the girl nowhere to be seen. Téa bit her lip as guilt washed over her. It seemed as though she should know something, having been practically right next to the other teen. How had the other young woman vanished so abruptly?

"Just how close to the real thing is this 'ghost' trying to get!" Yugi exclaimed suddenly, startling those around him.

Both Atemu and Téa turned to him. The former Pharaoh lifted an eyebrow while Téa blinked. The female teen's lips parted as she inhaled sharply in realization. _Why had she not considered it before!_ "Wait. . . . Are you saying . . . ?"

Yugi nodded. "Yeah," he said. "What if the ghost took the girl playing Christine!"

Atemu frowned darkly. "It could be a strong possibility," he commented quietly. "But how could he have if he had been playing the organ? It seems he would have had to move fairly quickly." He crossed his arms, pondering over this.

"I know," Yugi agreed grimly. "But it still seems like too much to be a coincidence. Don't you think?" His darker half only nodded.

Téa looked around with her worried blue eyes. She headed for behind the curtains to see if Mokuba had seen anything when the lights had gone out. Gerald ran over to the side of the stage where Yugi and Atemu were standing.

"Are you saying this idiot is targeting the star of this show now!" he demanded.

Yugi nodded reluctantly. "It sure seems that way. No one seems to know where she went!" Of course, Yugi knew no real way to look about for her, having not seen the young actress out of costume.

Gerald banged his fist onto the well-polished stage."This production can't afford another injury!"

Yugi nodded, agreeing with the excitable man. This sort of thing could not be allowed. The entire theatre could be shut down if such disturbing things continued.

"Nor do we want any more injuries," Atemu added. He turned and went back to see if Téa had discovered anything. Pushing the heavy, velvety curtain aside, the spirit peered backstage. "Anything?"

Téa sighed and shook her head sadly. "No. . . . It really does seem as though _no one_ saw what happened to her!" She wrung her hands in distress. "Oh Pharaoh . . . this is terrible!" If something had happened to the other girl, Téa knew that she would feel responsible, since she had not even recognized that "Christine" had suddenly not been standing right by her. She felt that she should have been able to see or even hear something to indicate what had happened, but everything was a blank. In all the confusion, she simply had not paid attention.

Atemu nodded. "And it seems to be growing more so. Tell me, what did she look like?" Like Yugi, the yami had no idea what the teenager looked like. And since he had been in the Puzzle, he had not noticed the actress standing by Téa before the lights had gone out.

Téa put her finger to her chin for a moment, as though trying to think of a description that would suffice for the search. "Well. . . ." She knew the other girl was slender and also had blue eyes. If she was still in costume, her hair would resemble Christine's—brown and tightly curled. But Téa had to admit that she was not certain what the actress looked like when she was not dressed for the play, especially since she, Téa, had only just recently joined the cast and had only seen the other girl in costume.

Nearby and watching them was the younger Kaiba brother. Mokuba slumped back in the chair and sighed, only half-listening to what Téa was telling Atemu. _Seto is not going to be happy about this_, he thought to himself. The boy gingerly sucked on his burned finger and fiddled with one of the non-functioning switches. He was actually rather surprised that he got away with one burn, with the way the lighting console had blown up. In fact, it was a surprise that no one had been hurt. Well, no one that he knew of anyway. . . .

He shuddered, remembering Alister's "accident" from the previous day. Someone could very well have gotten hurt and it was just that no one knew of it yet. Their Christine could end up being found somewhere hurt—or worse.

* * *

Serenity blinked in confusion at the new girl who was approaching. "Um, hi," she greeted. "Do you know Duke?" Specifically, she wondered if the younger girl had been Duke's former girlfriend. He had certainly greeted her as if he knew her well. 

"We've met," came the smooth reply as the short young woman adjusted her glasses. "But if you're hoping to get in with Duke Devlin, I'm afraid you're gonna be out of luck. He's a real ladies' man!" She smirked as she took in Duke's momentarily frustrated expression. "I'm sure he's left behind lots of girls crying over him."

The raven-haired boy soon regained his composure and gave an answering smirk as he tossed his hair. "Oh? Well, I imagine even you couldn't resist my charms, Becky." He enjoyed watching her glare at him.

"Hmph," she retorted. "I'll have you know that there are much better guys existing in the world than you. Yugi Muto, for one." Her green eyes grew somewhat dreamy as an image of the vertically challenged boy came to her mind.

Serenity simply blinked in confusion. "You know Yugi, too?" she said, wondering exactly what was going on, and then remembering her manners. "I'm sorry!" she exclaimed. "I haven't introduced myself. I'm Serenity Wheeler."

The younger girl blinked back. "Joey Wheeler's sister?" She smiled. "I'm Rebecca Hawkins. My grandfather is Professor Arthur Hawkins. I imagine you've heard of him?" She pushed her glasses up on her nose, studying Serenity with interest.

Serenity felt herself coloring. "Well . . . I think I've heard my friends talking about him sometimes," she admitted, not wanting to look like a complete fool in front of this newcomer. And she did think the name "Hawkins" sounded familiar in some way. Then she recalled it—Bakura had mentioned that someone named Arthur Hawkins was coming to Domino City to discuss his research with Bakura's father.

Duke leaned back in the booth. "So, I guess you came here to stalk Yugi?" he remarked, knowing that Rebecca would not take kindly to the question.

"Most certainly not!" Rebecca snapped, indeed annoyed. "Though, I'd be more than happy to see him." She looked at Duke. "And what are you doing? I guess you're flirting with yet another victim."

"Oh no," Serenity quickly interjected. "We're just having a friendly lunch. That's all."

Duke sighed to himself. _Yeah,_ he thought, _just a friendly lunch. . . ._

* * *

Raphael looked over the information Paulette had faxed to him, frowning deeply. The names of Liu's previous owners were not familiar to him—Mr. and Mrs. John Ascot. The address they had once been at was vacated now, and not even their cell phones were in use. It all seemed very strange, as if they had simply run away for some reason. 

"Any luck?" Alister had suddenly appeared, idly glancing at the papers Raphael was musing over. The house was quiet at the moment, as Valon had gone out to ride his motorcycle. The redhead crossed his lanky arms, then stiffened slightly as Liu rubbed against him. At last he bent down, petting the cat gently but still looking somewhat detached.

"No," Raphael growled, "just more questions." He looked over the tops of the papers, smiling slightly as he watched Alister stroking Liu's silky fur. Despite whatever reservations the redhead might be holding, that did not change the fact that he was a gentle person and that he would not deliberately hurt an animal without good reason. He was treating Liu with kindness, and she was enjoying it immensely.

"Are you going to try finding these people?" Alister blinked as Liu rolled onto her back, all four paws in the air. He knew that cats usually did that to show that they trusted their humans completely, and he was amazed that Liu had already decided that she trusted him that much. All he had done was briefly pet her.

"'Try' is the key word," Raphael answered, doubting that he was going to have much luck. He ran a hand through his hair, then looked down at Liu with amusement. "She must really find you trustworthy," he remarked. "These other people couldn't have treated her very well, but I guess she isn't ready to give up on humanity yet." He supposed he was not ready to, either. He had discovered that there were still good people in the world, Alister and Valon among them. And yet, Raphael found that when he thought of humanity as a whole, he would still feel a certain disgust. So many people allowed themselves to be ruled by selfishness and greed that the blonde had at last lost faith in almost all of them. Those kinds of people seemed to be the majority, and Raphael was certain that they would lead the human race to utter ruin.

Alister watched Liu for a moment before gently reaching out to see if she wanted a tummy rub. She half-closed her eyes in contentment, as that had apparently been what she had been hoping for. "Miruko would have loved this cat," Alister muttered, half to himself. Liu thumped her tail on the floor, a loud purr rumbling from somewhere in her throat.

As Raphael continued to watch, he found that he was beginning to understand. Alister truly did not dislike cats; they made him sad because of the brother he had lost.

As he continued to ponder, he was abruptly startled by the screeching of tires outside followed by a horrible thump that sounded as though it had come from right on their porch. Both he and Alister looked up. Liu rolled back into a sitting position, ears pricked.

"That didn't sound good," Alister frowned.

"No, it didn't," Raphael agreed, going to the door and opening it slowly. When he saw what had caused the loud crash, he gasped in horror and confusion and then immediately knelt down.

Valon was laying on the porch, looking as though he had been badly beaten!

* * *

The highly frustrated CEO slammed the fuse box shut. Having arrived at the theatre just as all the commotion had began, Seto had gone to see if any of the fuses had short-circuited. But it did not appear as though that had been the problem. At least, all of the fuses seemed to be in order. He could do nothing about any of them. 

He looked up sourly and with perplexity even as the lights now flickered back on. _What now?_ he wondered unhappily as he started down the newly lit hall. His footsteps echoed down the empty passageway. There were certainly a number of things that came to mind and none of them pleasant. Not that many pleasant things ever ran through the cynical mind in the first place.

_Mokuba had better be alright. Otherwise, this _'ghost'_ will be suffering my wrath tenfold when I get a hold of him._ Seto growled under his breath upon observing the clear corridor. Somewhere down there, probably in the theatre itself, he heard quite a commotion. That alone seemed like an obvious sign of trouble. Above him, the lights wavered questionably. The young business man gave them a cursory glance. Perhaps the problem had not been fixed after all.

Seto Kaiba felt the breath in his chest leave him as a force hit him straight on. It was only then that the soft padding sound from only moments before was acknowledged in his mind. His lanky form stumbled backwards a few steps, but refused to topple over. The silver briefcase that had been in the CEO's hand crashed to the floor in a loud clatter and nearly spilled its contents. Out of instinct, the young man grabbed at what had ran into him to keep it from taking him down completely. He heard a small yelp and let go upon regaining his balance.

Scowling, Seto stared down at the mass of brown, curly hair. Two small hands slowly reached up and took hold of the hair, revealing it to be a wig as blonde hair spilled out from underneath. A pair of wide, blue eyes met Seto's own as the wig was pulled from the girl's head. She had to be no younger than him. Never the less, Seto kept to the same expression of disapproval.

"Excuse you," he declared flatly. The teen flinched slightly and pushed some of the hair that had fallen out of a sloppy pony tail out of her face with one hand. Her other hand still held onto the brunette wig.

"The lights were out. . . . And I couldn't see where I was going . . ." she explained as she stumbled over her words. The teen began to try to edge around Seto, giving him a chance to observe her. It seemed as though she had been part of the performance and was still in costume. Never letting his eyes leave her, the young man bent down to pick up his briefcase.

"Yes, I know," Seto said. "You should try to keep a careful watch as to where you're going when it's dark." The girl bit her lip a bit, keeping an eye on him.

"So should you," she muttered. Her blue eyes shifted about up and down the hall. In spite of her unease, it seemed to Seto as though she was also somewhat annoyed with being lectured on her actions.

"I wasn't the one running," he countered, his expression irked. "Mind telling me what happened?" The girl looked back to him, almost in alarm. When he did not get an answer from her, he repeated his question.

"I . . . I have to go," the teen blurted out as she tried to get past Seto. The CEO stepped in her path.

"I would appreciate some answers." Despite his firm voice, the jumpy girl tried to push past him. It became apparent to Seto that she was not about to tell him anything, no matter how threatening he seemed to be.

"I really have to go!" she cried, prying Seto out of her path with surprising force. Taking an uncontrolled step back, Seto narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He tried to grab for her, but all he got was the scarf out of her hair as she hitched up her dress and took off down the hall. The businessman was about to go after her when another voice stopped him.

"Seto!" Seto whirled on the heel of his boot and looked in the direction he had heard his little brother. Mokuba gazed up at him in a bit of surprise, then looked down the hall where the girl had run off. He squinted, then let his body relax. Seto raised an eyebrow at the relieved sigh from the boy.

"Who was that?" he asked, half out of curiosity. If it was someone connected with the play, Mokuba might know, he hoped.

Mokuba shot him an incredulous look, forgetting that Seto would really have no idea as to the girl's identity. "Who was that!" the child repeated. "That was our Christine!"

Seto raised his eyebrow further. "Oh really. . . ." _Interesting. . . ._

Mokuba nodded enthusiastically. "It's just a relief she's okay," he added.

"So something did happen," Seto said before Mokuba could continue. He glanced down the hall, suspicions bubbling in his mind.

"Yeah, we thought the ghost had kidnapped her! When all the lights came back on she was gone without a trace." Seto listened, frowning as Mokuba continued to explain what happened. Catching sight of a red mark on the child's finger, Seto grabbed it, scrutinizing the injury. He was not pleased in the least, but relieved that it seemed like only a minor burn. All the while, Mokuba continued to talk, then trailed off as he saw Tristan and Joey came down the hall.

"Yo! Mokuba!" Joey called as he headed up to the brothers, Tristan in tow. "What's been going on? We came in and all the lights were turned off!"

"Yeah, it was kinda spooky, man!" Tristan added. _Especially in light of everything else that's been going on. . . ._

"The 'ghost' struck again," Mokuba chirped. "He knocked out all the lights and left another note!"

Seto frowned yet again. "Wait, what note?" This was something he had not heard about. Possibly it could be important. In a disaster such as this, every clue counted.

"Another note?" Joey demanded. "What'd it say?" Seto growled at the interruption. Mokuba just waved it away.

"Why don't we all just go back down to the stage," the boy suggested, already starting to head that way. "Everybody's in a panic down there looking for Tazi."

Tristan blinked. "Who?"

Mokuba sighed in exasperation. "The girl that plays Christine!" he cried. "We thought she'd been kidnapped or something!" he explained again.

Mokuba headed off in the direction he came and the two arrivals followed him. Seto lingered for a moment, rubbing his temples from all the excitement. His eyes ached a bit, a sign he had been working too long again, though he would never admit it. The others were talking down the hall, but he ignored them. Once again, he looked down the other end of the corridor, frowning darkly.

_Tazi, huh?_ he thought to himself. _You're quite a strange one, not to mention highly suspicious. _This was a person he would certainly have to do some research on. Something about her just rubbed him strangely, almost in a wrong manner. _It was too convenient for you to run off at the right moment. . . . Not to jump to any conclusions or anything of the sort, but still. . . ._ For the first time since he had grabbed it, Seto looked down at the scarf.


	8. Tazi

**Note from Yaminah: Well, I thought that Daisy saying that we were doing a collaboration would be enough. Though I've started to believe some prevention should be had and maybe a little explanation for some things I may believe to be the cause of one thing or another. The only reason my OCs are being used at all is because of my collaboration in this fic. I came with the proposal of the idea based on character development that'd evolved through some awesome RPs during the creation of Runihura's full character. I had these characters for ages upon and ages and they're my creation and mine alone. I hope that this won't serve to be a problem throughout the fic.**

**Note from me: Sorry, we're not taking requests for other people's OCs in this story. It's all planned out and we don't need extra faces. There's enough already to keep track of!**

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Raphael reached out, laying a hand gently on Valon's back. He was sprawled mostly on his side, facing his friend, but his eyes were closed. Carefully Raphael ran a hand down the boy's spine to make certain it was intact. When he was satisfied, he checked for other broken bones and then lifted Valon into his arms, carrying him inside. Raphael was strong and muscular, and Valon was rather short in comparison to him. He only came up to Raphael's chest when he was standing at his full height. Raphael could carry him easily.

Alister stared as he watched Raphael enter with the Australian's limp body. "Is he hurt bad?" he asked, walking over to them.

Raphael growled. "He'd better not be," he answered, laying the teenager down gently on the couch. Liu leaped up beside him, rubbing against him and licking his face. Valon did not respond at first, but then he moaned, stirring, and weakly pushed her away. Liu was undeterred. She remained beside him, purring and occasionally meowing softly.

Alister watched for a moment, then left to get the first aid kit. His eyes narrowed as he opened the medicine cabinet and took it down. _Why would someone do this? What had Valon done?_ He knew that the boy had a penchant for getting into trouble, but he was also able to hold his own in a fight. The fact that he had obviously been defeated worried the redhead.

When he came back into the living room, he found that Valon was awake and confused. The Australian's gaze wandered around the room for a moment before he wearily closed his eyes again, rubbing at his head. "Oww," he mumbled. "How'd I wind up here?" The last thing he remembered was the end of the long, drawn-out fight he had been involved in. _Those jerks got the better of me,_ he thought bitterly. _They weren't playing fair._

"They dropped you off," Raphael grunted. He took one of the disinfectant wipes from the first aid kit and began cleaning some of the cuts Valon had sustained. "But they didn't stay to chat." Valon snorted at the dry remark.

"Didn't they say what they wanted with you?" Alister asked now. "And how did they know where to bring you?" He watched Raphael clean Valon's injuries before coming to sit down on a nearby chair.

Valon shrugged. "I think they thought I knew somethin' that I don't," he said. "Somethin' to do with their criminal stuff. . . . And they didn't believe me when I said I didn't know what they were talkin' about." He grinned ruefully. "I guess that coulda been expected. Anyway . . . we got fighting . . . and I lost. I think they looked at my I.D. card to find out where to leave me. They probably meant it as some kinda warning." He opened his eyes again, looking annoyed. "And they took my bike! I dunno what they wanted with it, but it's gone. 'Course . . . I'm gonna get it back," he vowed now.

"Not yet, you're not," Raphael growled. "They did quite a number on you." He bandaged one of the worst wounds, shaking his head as Valon tried to rise.

"Raphael is right," Alister said flatly. "You should rest. If you tried to go after them in your condition, they'd beat you up again."

"No, they wouldn't!" Valon snapped, even though he knew he felt somewhat dizzy. He decided on his own to rest for a while, but he vowed that he would find the gang and retrieve his motorcycle.

* * *

Everyone in the theatre continued to hustle and bustle about in a panic. While no one had found their Christine, someone had found the pianist knocked out in a pile of music, seeming to have been electrocuted. There were no other signs of anyone else being wounded, but everyone by now was fearing the worse.

Atemu searched slowly, but surely, feeling as though everyone was going past him at light speed. Something had been nagging him ever since the lights had come back on. Nothing yet had turned up to clue him in as to what it might be. His inspection of the stage itself left him empty-handed and he hoped backstage would not leave him equally so.

In the background, he heard Joey come in, shouting a greeting. Not too far behind was Mokuba, telling everyone that things were alright. It took several moments for it to sink in before everyone slowed down. Kaiba showed up several long moments afterwards, quiet as usual. Gerald had gone over to Mokuba, demanding answers and the young actress and received a quick and matter-of-fact answer from Seto.

"Ran off?" Gerald declared indignantly. "What do you mean she ran off?" He glared at the businessman, feeling an intense frustration at how things were going with his production. He did not understand why someone was trying to jinx it.

"I mean she ran off," Seto said flatly. "Don't make me repeat myself yet again."

All of this blurred into the background as Atemu sensed something strongly. It consumed him for several seconds and made him freeze. The spirit grew concerned at the near disturbing presence . . . yet, it felt vaguely familiar—almost something from a dream, in fact. A dream from something long ago. . . .

He whirled at the last minute, seeing something stir amongst the shadows of props and a backdrop. For a moment, the former Pharaoh thought he caught sight of long hair whipping behind the set. His magenta eyes narrowed as he tried to locate any more movement. Atemu was certain he had felt a pair of eyes boring into him.

"Phantom . . .?" he whispered.

* * *

High up in the rafters, a darker figure laid out, watching all the commotion down below. The body language spoke of amusement. Panic and fear reeked from those down below. Though a pair of sadistic eyes kept watch upon a certain individual closely. 

"Sing for me . . . My . . . Angel." The words came out bemused and morphed into twisted sarcasm. A sneer played across thin lips, which was followed by low cackling.

* * *

Things had quieted down in the theatre since suspicions of a kidnapping had proven to be just that—suspicions. The pianist fortunately sported nothing more than a nasty bruise and no other injuries had occurred. An electrician had been called and was now working on fixing the lighting console for the stage. Some of the actors and actresses left, soon after everything was in the clear, all of them in need of a bit of a break from all the commotion around the set. Those that remained lingered about, getting something to drink and rehearsing their lines idly. Gerald was still in his office, trying to get a hold of Tazi to figure out why she had left so abruptly. 

Atemu sat back at a conference table with everyone else. His thoughts kept going back to whatever it was that he saw in the shadows. He could not shake the feeling that it was something he had encountered before. The possibility that it was the 'ghost' seemed likely. Hopefully, he could identify what it was before another disaster occurred. Once again, he tried to stay focused on the conversation at hand.

"So uhhh . . . Whadda we know about Tazi?" Joey asked as he leaned back into his chair. He took a sip of his soda.

Téa rested her chin in her hand as she propped her elbow on the folding table. "Someone said she'd just moved here not too long ago," the dancer said. She picked up a pretzel stick out of the bowl sitting in the middle of the table and munched on it. "But no one has really seen her out and about, you know?"

"She's really quiet," Mokuba piped in. "Kinda keeps to herself."

Seto listened as he typed away at his laptop. His brows knitted in frustration. Results on this girl were few while work from the company was increasing. "She's also not registered in any of the schools in Domino," he added as he typed away. "And there really aren't records of her previous attendance anywhere."

"Maybe she's home schooled," Yugi guessed. Téa shook her head.

"She said her father was off on a trip."

"What about her mom?"

Téa looked over to Tristan as he spoke. She bit her lip. "I don't know," the dancer confessed. "She made it sound as though she was home alone."

Seto continued to listen as he closed out one Internet window and opened another. At the same time, he checked a chart concerning the month's productivity at KaibaCorp. As he did so, a small box slid up from the task bar at the bottom of the screen to indicate he had several emails coming in. They were most likely to do with work at the company.

_Honestly_, he thought in exasperation._ Can't those idiots do_ anything_ on their own?_ It was almost as though someone heard his question as his cell-phone rang. Groaning, the CEO dug it out of his trenchcoat pocket and flipped it open.

"Kaiba." The young man listened for a moment. "No, that's not what I asked of you." Muttering to himself, Seto got up and walked away from the table, leaving his trenchcoat draped over the chair. Mokuba watched as his brother started to bark orders into the phone. The boy sighed and looked back to everyone else at the table.

"She seems really nice though," Téa told them. "I've never seen her be rude or anything. Actually, she kinda reminds me of Bakura. . . ."

Joey leaned back further. "Well, apparently Moneybags don't think so. Ain't that right, Johnny Sunshine!" the Brooklyn boy hollered over to the CEO. Seto shot him an icy glare.

"Aw, now c'mon . . ." Tristan said. "Are you saying she's some kind of psychopath or something?" _Great. This mystery is getting better all the time._ He found himself wishing that he was doing something else, such as spending time with Serenity. Sometimes being involved in the mysteries was exasperating, and it almost always involved people getting hurt. He had had about enough. Part of him just wanted to bail out, and yet he knew that he did not want to leave his friends to deal with it.

Seto rolled his eyes and pardoned himself from his phone call for a moment. Holding his hand over the speaker, he looked over at the other teens. "I didn't say she was a psychopath," he corrected coldly. "I said she was highly suspicious. That's a far cry from psychotic, not that I expect you to know the difference. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a company to run." With that, the now-grouchy business man returned to his call, walking a bit further from the table. Tristan frowned after him.

Joey finished off his soda. "Blah, Kaiba's just havin' girl problems," he reasoned with a snicker.

Tristan looked back to him. "Don't you mean problems with people in general?" he retorted.

"Come on, guys," Yugi butted in, not wanting to see another argument get started. "We have to take into consideration what Kaiba saw. He's the only one of us who's seen her outside of performances and we all know by now that looks can be deceiving. . . ."

Atemu nodded in agreement with his Hikari. "We must be very cautious," the former Pharaoh said.

"So what?" Joey asked as he leaned forward. "Are you sayin' we should go to her house and question her or something?"

Téa sighed. "I really don't think so. I mean, if she's not involved with any of this, it'll seem pretty awful of us to bring all these accusations into her home. Especially if she's the person we seem to know on stage . . ." Yugi nodded in agreement.

Joey did not look happy. "So we just wait for her to come back then?"

"I guess so, Joey." Yugi sighed too, not knowing what else to do.

Behind the tri-color haired boy, Seto snapped his phone shut and came back over to the table."I for one think she deserves to be fully questioned after running off like that. And the sooner someone does it, the better." Seto dropped the phone back into his trenchcoat pocket and leaned over the chair to fiddle with something on his laptop.

Joey watched him with a mock exhausted look. "The only reason you're so gung-ho about this is 'cause your company owns the property," he accused as he crossed his arms.

Seto did not look up from his computer. "Correct," he answered shamelessly. "Let's not forget that Mokuba has also insisted on continuing to work on this production. Either way, I believe answers are in order. And soon."

Joey rolled his eyes over-dramatically and reached for some pretzels, tired of simply sitting here discussing on what course of action to take, and especially with Seto there. "Anywhoooo . . ."

Before Joey could go off onto whatever spiel he had in mind, Mokuba remembered something. "We could always try to get a hold of her cousin," the boy chimed in.

Everyone looked over to him immediately, including Seto. "Cousin?" several repeated together.

Mokuba nodded as he sat up a bit straighter, glad to be able to offer some information that might be of use. "Yeah, she came to pick her up once," he began. "She looks a lot like Tazi. It's kinda scary really. . . . They could almost be sisters."

"Well maybe they are," Tristan said.

Téa's face brightened in realization. "No, I remember her mentioning her cousin once," she informed him. "She was complaining something about her dead-beat cousin leaving something out on the counter in the kitchen . . . or something like that."

Joey raised an eyebrow. "Dead-beat? Well that's sure gonna help us," he said sarcastically. "Sounds like she's livin' there with Tazi. That'd also mean going over to their house."

"Though we can conclude she's not home alone," Téa said, correcting her earlier mistake.

"What's the cousin's name?" Seto suddenly inquired. Téa looked over, shrugging her shoulders helplessly, and so did Mokuba. Seto growled quietly and typed in frustration. _Sounds like another dead end to me. I'm the businessman here and I'm the only one wanting the direct approach. Oh the irony._

Yugi sighed softly. "I guess we'll just have to wait for now. . . . It's just another addition to the whole puzzle." He then turned to Joey. "How'd it go at the other theatre?"

Joey perked up and slammed a hand on the table. Seto watched in annoyance as the screen of laptop wavered slightly.

"Oh yeah!" the Brooklyn boy exclaimed, irritated that he had temporarily forgotten. "I've been meaning to throw something in about that! It was freaky over there!"

As he and Tristan began to explain what had taken place, none of them realized that they were being closely observed by the same presence from the theatre earlier. The figure sneered in amusement, listening to the tale of what had happened at the Desert Star Theatre, and crossed his arms as he leaned back against a beam that was supporting the roof. "They still have no idea," he grinned maliciously. "Though none of this was supposed to involve them, it appears that they're mixed up in it anyway. Not that it bothers me. Quite on the contrary, tormenting them will help in leading me to my final goal." He relaxed as he thought of what mischief he could make next, and especially when he recalled that he had aroused the suspicions of the person whom he had been seeking. Soon it would begin.


End file.
